For me, painting is such a natural response to the world around us. I am enthralled by all of nature's elements, just as they are. When it is a gray day, I paint a gray day. I am curious about just which gray that is, after all. A passerby once asked me: “Are you painting this drab rainy day?” I said: “Yes. It's beautiful, isn't it?” And it was to me. I feel that I am here to learn from nature, to study and to enjoy all of its subtleties and rhythms as much as possible. It is such a pleasure to stand around and worry about whether one color is darker, warmer, cooler, or more intense than another, as a part of understanding why something looks the way that it does. It is a wonderful way to connect with a time and a place.

What we painters do is extremely old-fashioned. It contradicts much of the pace of the modern world, and yet so much good comes from standing on one spot for hours or even days. Things happen. You become a temporary fixture in a community. People tell stories, and all of it can have an effect on the development of the painting. It gets in there somehow. An important thing always strikes me whenever standing still for more than even a few moments, which is the sense of ongoing change. Sometimes it is slow, but everything is moving. This is an important element that I'm always trying to bring into my work. I want my paintings to feel that they are not of a frozen moment. Each moment is part of a fluid and living thing, and I am trying to capture that sensation.