Painting and drawing is essential to who I am, how I have lived, and (most likely) how I will continue to live this life. The written and spoken word is more of a second language for me.

Having said that, it’s true that there are some very gifted writers, curators, and critics, who sometimes share their insights about works of art, in a way that can be enlightening. I would suggest that such offerings be read, or listened to, whenever possible, only after one has first allowed the art to speak to one's self directly.

The images on this site or any site cannot replicate the experience of being in the presence of the work. They never will. (I don’t use computer screens as my medium, and a painting that’s sixteen feet wide does not equate to an image of a few inches in width. Trying to photographically represent the sand paintings is an act of futility. Their nature cannot be experienced through this medium.) They are offered as a glimpse to the unacquainted, an invitation to view the “real thing”.

People who view my work often remark that I must have extraordinary patience. It’s true that much of my work is packed with information and takes considerable time to create. I’m interested in essence, in that which is timeless, in the organic continuum that is the cosmos. The act of creating, for me, is a kind of meditation involving my attention to the present, to the act of painting or drawing. I never know how long a particular work may take to create, because I don’t know where the activity of creating it will lead me. Time (and therefore patience) is not a factor. I take each piece as far as I can, until it’s resolved.
The work, and my conscience, tell me when to stop.

Santa Fe, NM February 3, 2009; August 5, 2009.

sheldon.eleven@hotmail.com

sheldon@cnsp.net