How something that oozes out of a thin aluminum tube and onto a primed flat white canvas can convince you of the presence of a three-dimensional world, this translucent paste that conveys the fragrances of pasture and ocean, forest and rain, was to me holy. And I wanted to affect that. I wanted to paint. To see light; to manipulate light; to share it with those who believe, and show it to those who do not. Pundits were hard at work convincing me that a mathematical equation or physical methodology (a logarithm) could produce the same work and, with just as much depth of execution and feeling. Yet, I have never viewed a computer-generated piece of art that evoked me to tears. My work had already crossed over the line that divided art and craft. I was into feeling it organically, not just looking at a scene, owning it, or trading it. Painting with the tip of my nose was not outside my stream of executions, or behaviors, a critic once observed.
