Ready! Fire! Aim!

I remember spending the night in the painting studio.

It was the mid 90s, and I must have been about 22 or 23 years old. I was excited by the prospect of painting overnight, a once-a-year project the painting program at VCU… allowed to happen? Encouraged? I’m not sure.

Painting until a project was completed—a painting was done—had an irresistible lure. Paint was such a cool medium: with a little bit of linseed oil and a broad brush, I could quickly bring an idea to fruition. I could begin to take what was inside of my head, and bring it out into the world for others to experience.

A funny thing happened at least some of the time, and maybe it was closer to all the time. As I painted, the paint itself added to the idea generation. An imperfectly painted swath here, or an unexpected shape coming out of a textured section of color I didn’t expect to see.

I would often pivot and lean into these moments. The painting would change direction in an instant, becoming something a little differen…