I wrote this at a time when I was not making music. I spent about 15 years of my life, not making music and really trying to work as an artist as well. Without my own personal experience with music as a performer, I still needed some other kind of outlet that created the same type of excitement.

And there’s nothing that can replace the excitement of performing. But another intense experience for me that had a similar kind of adrenaline rush was mountain biking. So I wrote:

As an avid mountain biker, my painting has become a reflection of my experience on the trails, tinged with a bit of East Coast urban upbringing and musical influences edging in. I can’t imagine life without major physical and creative outlets.

I’m fascinated by edges, the places where changes happen, the thin shimmer of constant movement along boundaries, the forest in the fields, the meadows, flowers and grasses influenced me. I was an active musician and performer most of my life. Now mountain biking has taken place of music. I ride the same vigor and passion as I sang, pushing myself as far as I could go. Pushing through fear, I feel the whoosh of the air as I travel through paths in the forest.

I’m in love with nature. I’m in love with the meadows, of sunflowers. I’m in love with riding through the meadows. Sometimes, I’m surrounded by so much beauty it almost doesn’t seem real.

I’m inspired by my relationship with nature, how I move through it.

Cycles of death and rebirth.

Cycles cycling, writing, poetry, music, the intangible, the constant tension between destruction and creation.

Sunset, punk rock, heavy psychedelia, music that makes me feel empowered.

Sex, memories.

Squatting.

Being invisible, feeling invisible, but still creating anyway.

My insistence, the need to create, the need to exist, the need to give back to the world for my life.

The idea that all of this, all of our experiences, our lives, nature is temporary. The idea that not everyone believes or feels that nature is valuable – baffles me. That hurts.

Pain is an influence. And love.

Pure love.

Knowing that everything is tremulous and temporary . . . 

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