In the opinion of many, art serves as a direct visceral connection between sender and receiver leaving both parties moved and effected by the transaction. I paint individuals who have effected me in some way or other throughout my lifetime, with whom have shared, either directly or indirectly, that same "visceral connection."
So I paint them.
I strive hard to recreate a sampling of that connectivity felt between artist and subject, and hopefully allow a separate yet equal experience between my extraordinary viewers and my equally enthralling subjects.
I was 12 years old and watching color TV for the first time in my Grandfathers living room, during the 1972 National League Championship Series when Johnny Bench first came to bat against the Pirates. The red of his helmet blared off the screen against the greenest shade of anything green, let alone actual grass, that my 12 year old had ever witnessed. His tan, focused face seemed oblivious to the camera through which I, and a zillion other 12 year old boys, were watching. His hand shook his helmet into place as he swung the bat single handedly, not unlike a certain man in a black mask I also worshipped had done earlier that afternoon. Johnny Bench taught me, in the next swing, the music of ball versus bat; the sound was almost deafening as he belted the leather bound sphere into the seats in deep left. Not just a home run, it was THE home run. He also taught me that afternoon, in living color, that art lasts forever.
Because I can still hear that sound.
