Painting With Both Eyes Open

Once again I find my artwork and my spiritual life running parallel.  Since I strive to create honest work that is a true representation of myself, I cannot understand why I am so often surprised to discover the reflection of my spiritual walk glaring back at me from a graphite-smeared page.

In my work, it is my sincerest desire to discover truth of form as expressed primarily by light. At numerous junctions in this never-ending search for truth, I discover an intricacy far too delicate to comprehend. Once confronted by the fragile weave of what I think I see, my goal as an artist must shift to evoking merely a sense of truth by depicting as much of it as I can possibly understand without destroying or neglecting to indicate that which I do not.

I find myself increasingly wary of the dangerous, overzealous, and analytical breakdown of truth – which could inadvertently create a composition void of the magic, essence, and childlike wonder I have worked so long to render.  Yet, I cannot ignore in my work that which I do not understand, nor can I arrogantly misrepresent it, for I fear I would be at even greater risk, and Plato would most certainly label me a liar.