Well, whether you've just seen pics or posts on Facebook or have been over to Local Coffee to see the latest big paintings and digital prints (and assuming you're interested), here're some thoughts on the process behind those.
Flow (60x30in, Acrylic [aka the red, orange and teal one]): I'd been messing around with flow acrylic, which has fantastic properties, but which is extremely expensive. At the same time, I'd been reading about how Jackson Pollock used house paint (gloss enamel) to paint his pieces (He'd put a large piece of un-stretched canvas on the floor of his studio then work his way around the painting, and in Freudian/Jungian fashion, attempt to force out all conscious thought to let his subconscious direct him on how the painting should look.) So it got me thinking about how most house paint that I've seen has fantastic viscosity and would probably create a similar effect at (hopefully) a much more reasonable price.
Control (48x48in, Flow Acrylic [aka the giant blue one]): I fought with this one for awhile. I thought I knew what I wanted it to be and it just kept slipping away from me. I'm stubborn enough to just keep going when things aren't going my way and this painting was no exception. I kept getting more and more angry, wasting paint, trying thing after thing to shape it, until I finally gave up. But when I gave up, I finally realized I needed to just leave it alone. It was what it was supposed to be and I needed to let go of my desire to make it what I wanted it to be. It became about letting go of my attempts at control and simply accept that some things are what they are and nothing more.
Digital Edits - I've got several of these printed on 20x20 canvas and up at Local. Basically, these edits (and all of my other digital edits) are my response to C.S. Lewis' "The Weight of Glory". Go read it if you haven't already. Amazing thinking about what will be versus what is. Here's a nice quote from it: "The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.”