I paint still life because it affords me control over
the lighting, composition, subjects and, of course,
the comfort level of being indoors, quiet and dry.
Having this control should make a painter’s life
easier, but freedom comes at a price, even here
– it takes discipline to show up and stick with it,
rather than drift upstairs for another cup of coffee,
or out to the car to do errands. There’s no one
to talk to. In the studio, I need to concentrate on
getting the setup right, and that could take hours.
What items speak to me, and to each other? How
best to light them? What’s the best composition?
Once the scene is set, I do thumbnail sketches to
find the best format and work on the dark/light
patterns. Then it’s a decision as to size of the
work, color scheme, and the particular challenges
this painting will present.
Every time I begin a painting, I believe it will be
easy, and every time I’m in the middle of it, it
becomes impossible. That’s when I need to take
a break, have that coffee, and find my faith again.
the lighting, composition, subjects and, of course,
the comfort level of being indoors, quiet and dry.
Having this control should make a painter’s life
easier, but freedom comes at a price, even here
– it takes discipline to show up and stick with it,
rather than drift upstairs for another cup of coffee,
or out to the car to do errands. There’s no one
to talk to. In the studio, I need to concentrate on
getting the setup right, and that could take hours.
What items speak to me, and to each other? How
best to light them? What’s the best composition?
Once the scene is set, I do thumbnail sketches to
find the best format and work on the dark/light
patterns. Then it’s a decision as to size of the
work, color scheme, and the particular challenges
this painting will present.
Every time I begin a painting, I believe it will be
easy, and every time I’m in the middle of it, it
becomes impossible. That’s when I need to take
a break, have that coffee, and find my faith again.






