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.

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.