Painting is both sensual and sensuous and, beyond that, an act of self-confession. It is a passionate, compelling enterprise which starts with a blur—a dim vision that demands materialization. It is rich in conflict and contradiction and far more than simply visual. The visual unfolding enlivens all the senses—taste, touch, smell and sound, as well as sight. The goal is to name with paint that which is unnamable, to tell what is untellable, to be intensely present and fiercely absent—one with the paint as a living thing—as life. It is an eye-gouging brawl, using fingers, thumbs, and the heels of hands to possess the paint in a fever of contrived strokes. Painting is the way to seek oneself, find oneself, and lose oneself all over again.