My paintings are deeply personal still frames from a movie that refuses to end. People I’ve known, places I’ve been, foundations of memory, reflections of heartbreak and moments from a a story flourished by early and devastating loss, protracted neglect, suburban blight and clawing through life one dashed hope at a time. My maddeningly rigid brain needs order and truth so I can’t paint any other way than photorealistically. What I see is what you get. It’s work that’s incredibly important to me and if somebody finds something in it for them that’s a bonus. I paint for myself.

Caravaggio’s first painting was a portrait of Iron Maiden’s mascot Eddie done with paints and brushes he borrowed from a kid named Josh, so naturally I followed in his footsteps and got started the exact same way. My subsequent work was heavily influenced by Pre-Raphaelite artists and death metal album covers, also an exact facsimile of the Renaissance masters. That was in the early 90s and I stopped painting a few years later to pursue music and filmmaking, both endeavors dying wriggling, painful deaths after dedicated pursuit over three decades. So why not pick up painting again at age 45 during a particularly acute midlife crisis?

That quiet kid sitting in the corner at every family gathering avoiding everybody and drawing out their imagination on any available scrap of paper? That was me. My family has deep roots in Seattle, both lines having moved here in the late 19th century. My great-great grandfather was the Ballard postmaster in 1902. My mother’s family operated the most successful sausage company in the city in the pre-depression era (Jilg Sausage Co) but great uncle Bert pissed away the emergency funds with gambling debts during the depression so the company was bought out by Oberto so I lost out on being a snot-nosed meat baron. Oh well! My great uncle on my father’s side put the first paint job on the Space Needle and my grandfather on the other side worked for the ‘62 World’s Fair and took photos of the Needle from a plane on opening weekend. Uncle Jim was the very first customer at Dick’s Drive-In. If those aren’t Seattle bonafides I don’t know what are. Yes I have a trophy for it. Yes it’s made with papier-mâché. I’ve lived in the area since birth and in the same house for nearly 30 years with no plans of leaving. Seattle is home.

Other than all that I mostly think about Huey Lewis and the News and hot dogs.