Throughout my career, I have been advised by kindly would-be mentors, "Consistency Matters." Be consistent. Be Recognizable. They were speaking of nothing more than formal subject matter, the nouns of my paintings. I would respectfully counter with "yes but the clouds thrill me and then the human figure intrigues me and then mythic narratives and Biblical text moves me...." and on and on and on. I doubt I convinced them.
Yet there is strong consistency in my range of work. Always I am driven by contour line, and its ability to elegantly impart immeasurable description. Color and movement embody my vision; frequently temporal tensions and narrative enter the composition.
Truly, I am excited by an array of ideas and contexts. I am a draftsman, a markmaker, and would be happy to do nothing but draw with yellow Dixon-Ticonderogas or crayons or the more acceptable medium of artists' pastels. Yet I am also a painter who loves the transparency and wet mess of watercolor as well as the goo of oils. My years as an independent animator, an experimental filmmaker, has made me more open, probably, to unorthodox vehicles like the graphic novel (please do not read "comic book" here), scrolls, successive imagery, and flipbooks of clouds moving along the North Carolina coast or a baby entering the world.
I thank the purveyors of advice but if I were to follow it, I'd be nothing more than a spiritual wannabe, constructing my search on the tiny bits of paper inside fortune cookies. I love to dip these cookies in my tea and sometimes I even tape the paper fortunes to my bathroom mirror--but always, always I am mindful of my own reflected image staring back at me beyond the cookies' advice.