The fading colors of late summer, the wilting flowers, and the softening evening light all whisper the presence of autumn to come. Their vibrance is fleeting, yet in that very evanescence lies their truth.

My practice, whether on a canvas or in the stillness of morning meditation, echoes the journey of the great nomads in the sky.

In my artwork, errors are a meandering road of missteps and discoveries. A mark appears in the wrong place, and suddenly, the possibility widens.

Are the sparrows perched high in the maples, or are the maples inside the cadence of their cry?

Each thing exists according to its nature. The tree leans in the wind because that is what the wind and the tree do together. Yet, we rarely meet things as they are. 

We often rush past the ordinary stuff of life. Clouds drifting, trees bending, a single bird cutting through the sky. In our haste, we miss the profound truths they carry.

When I walk in the woods, I’m not looking for nature; I’m waiting for it to find me. Nature doesn’t pose or perform. It simply shows the truth that everything is in flux and uncompromising.

Many years ago, as an art student, I learned to draw what is by drawing what is not. I learned to draw the negative space around the figure. This perspective opened…