When it began I cannot recall. When it will end I do not know for certain. My world is perpetual motion. Trained in the visual arts I have achieved a level of recognition for which I am afforded travel without end. To many it is a dream existence of great envy. To most they will never understand the burden of its splendor. Motion is a drug that seduces you with limitless possibilities. Constantly chasing the next event, the next place, the next project drives one harder. Fearful that I am missing something I require even greater mobility. At last count I am approaching two million air miles, which discounts the dozens of free travel vouchers already cashed in. In the past I would measure my accomplishments by my miles, but like a convict with a life sentence counting the number has no meaning. It has become irrelevant.I have crossed into a world between the seen and the unseen. I am no longer seemingly connected to anywhere. A few days in the office and I feel suffocated and stagnate. On the road, I am like a spirit that never touches the ground long enough to gain comfort or shelter. I am constantly surrounded by notable, accomplished, interesting people, but business travel never gives much of an opportunity to let the guard down. Deep personal friendships or relationships never flourish in the chaos of motion.
My training in the visual arts and my spirit-like existence has made me a very keen observer of human nature, place and culture. I look at the world like a professor observes a laboratory rat. The tools I use to dissect the world are scale, proportion, rhythm, balance, color, texture, light, movement, contrast and contradiction. I see incredible beauty in things many people never observe. My mind is filled with thousands of fleeting images of people and places. I catalogue visual impressions for comparison and dissection. How does this place work? Why do I like this place? Why do people gather there? Over the many years I have accumulated a deep appreciate of urban culture. What I have to contribute to society is a reflection in a mirror, an interpretation of meaning from a trained and experienced observer. Quite simply a blurred picture of perpetual motion.
