I grew up in New Mexico under a big sky and blazing sun. In alfalfa fields, on dirt roads and rock mesas, I wondered about the people who wandered my path before me.
The mark of man on the natural environment of the American West drives my work. Cattle, windmills, freight trains, motels, derelict cars: the earthbound objects I paint are exquisite stories in a great landscape.
We are here for only a moment – junkyards rust into red dust and the neon signs on Route 66 flicker off at dawn. Our creations and lives are small in the empty miles of mountains and mesas.