I had a discussion once about whether or not paintings have souls. I want to create paintings with souls so glowing and obvious that they reside in each layer, all the way down to the gesso. I want an element of magic in my paintings. I want them to beg to be touched but seem untouchable at the same time. As if touching them would turn your fingers, and then your entire being, into something from a strange and iridescent world. Paintings have life inside of them. When the artist puts enough of their self into a piece, it grows into something that embodies the soul of its creator.

The creatures in my current work are protectors. They are at once soft and vicious. They are motherly and warm. Covered with plush fur or feathers. With sharp teeth and claws or a nightmare mask covering a distorted face. A slug-trail of poison. A rack of antlers twisted like a labyrinth. These are creatures you want on your side.

My creatures do not deny the fact that they are made of paint. They live inside a world of paint. This is what gives them their magic. Paint makes them truly alive. The magic qualities of paint are accessed. Because they are born of paint, they are connected to all recorded history. They are tapping into a well of creativity and magic that has been mined for thousands of years. I dare you to tell me that they lack a soul.