I have always been drawn to water. Oceans have a repetition of sound that dulls the senses or can be as blustering as an old man who has had too much scotch.  The waters I most love are the streams that slide down mountains.  They are the  inspiration for so much that I do.  Streams can be a gentle murmuring baby, a stomping child’s tantrum or an insane man’s rage.  Fly fishing takes me to these streams.  Fly fishing saved my soul.

 

Too often my fascination of the waters depths and objects below distract me from my stated goal of catching the browns.  The things torn by the streams and tossed to the edges form a frame of my art.  Flowers, leaves and branches float or are pushed through, rising or sinking with the pressure of the water.  

 

My paintings are of my elusive visions of the waters that haunt me.​