This canvas, bestowed upon me as a gift on Father’s Day in 2015 by my beloved wife and daughter, measures 48×24″. When I embarked on its creation, I yearned to capture the process for documentation. Oh, how I wish I indulged in this practice more frequently with my paintings! Alas, the spontaneity of their genesis seldom permits such pauses for photographs.
Initially, you will observe my playful exploration of incorporating geometric shapes, reminiscent of a technique I often employed in my early works. However, as you gaze upon the completed painting, you will notice the abandonment of those shapes. This decision posed a formidable challenge. Uncertainty plagued me, for I cared little for their presence within the painting, yet I struggled to remove them without jeopardizing the integrity of the rest of the piece.
Doubt crept into my consciousness, threatening to erode my confidence. Fears of an insurmountable impasse gripped me. But in the late hours, when the house was hushed, I mustered my resolve. Fueled by the intoxicating allure of a few delightful libations and serenaded by the resonant melodies of Amy Winehouse, I delved into the solitary experience that painting affords me. Ah, the unintended pleasure found within this solitary realm! I have always cherished moments of seclusion, for they grant me the opportunity to clear my mind of superfluous ruminations.
With deliberate intent, I embarked upon this artistic journey with specific color choices in mind. They evoke memories of my youth, of a time entwined with an athletic organization that shaped my formative years in Oklahoma City. Although I hailed from California, where each summer I resided with my affectionate yet troubled father, returning to Oklahoma for the school year engendered a sense of displacement. I perpetually felt like an outsider, a shy and impoverished child raised by a single mother. To facilitate my integration with peers of my age, my mother enrolled me in baseball and football programs. Remarkably, my aptitude for these sports emerged above average, assuaging my feelings of alienation. The athletic field became a realm where social class divisions held little sway over the judgments I perceived. It was a realm of true meritocracy, a resolute testament to my mother’s sagacity. These endeavors tremendously aided my adjustment following my parents’ divorce and our relocation to this culturally distinct milieu.
The triumphs I achieved on the field instilled within me a confidence that endures to this day, whether manifested in my unlikely pursuit of an academic career or, now, in my artistic endeavors. Do not mistake my words, for I continue to grapple with the pangs of self-doubt. My wife and those closest to me would undoubtedly attest to this paradoxical facet of my being. Yet, it is precisely why I find solace and delight in painting, particularly within the realm of abstraction. It beckons me to engage in profound introspection, traversing the landscapes of both my present and, as this narrative unfolds, my past.
Indeed, I rejoice in my decision to abandon those early geometric shapes, for it was an act of unyielding confidence that emboldened me to chart an alternative path, forging ahead with unwavering resolve.
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