Dive in, the water is cold. Dive in, the water is warm. These are the titles of the works above. I am curious about the sheer solidity of these pensive forms. And I am curious about the evolving luminosity of these elements, the sudden contrast between dark and light. I am curious about the deep pigments that reside here in these sullen slabs of paint. I am a curious man. I think that is why I paint. You never know what the paint will do.
As a child, I never knew what art was, let alone what it could be. I grew up in Prince Edward Island, a dreary isolated island on the east coast of Canada. There was no art in the schools, and the only art I ever saw were those dreary landscapes on everybody’s walls that seemed to be compulsory. Art absolutely bored me.
What a shock when I left at 17 to bicycle around Europe and stopped into my first art museum — the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Van Gogh absolutely blew my mind. I couldn’t believe the vivid colors, the bold strokes of the paintbrush. That was the beginning of my addiction to art, although I never thought I could be one of those artists. I was too intimidated by their skill, yet I have to admit that a secret desire to create great works of art had lodged itself in my developing brain.
Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.
Call me James.
I only have one desire for my art, and that is to create works of staggering beauty. That’s it. Bold, audacious, uncomplicated, but almost impossible to achieve.
I started drawing at 20, when I first went to university, but I didn’t start painting until 30. They were terrible, all of them, just as I suspected they would be. It never occurred to me to take an art course or try to learn something about art. I just wanted to make great paintings. So I stopped painting, and didn’t paint again for many years.
