A few years ago, when I first moved to Albuquerque, I was making "paintings" that were mostly composed of found, woven objects that I collected on my walks to and from the University. It had something to do with being able to claim the things that no one else wanted, so I didn't feel like such an officious interloper in this new place. But it quickly became about enjoying the forms and colors, and about the joy of being in a constant state of seeking and observation, as I looked in gutters, alleys, and sidewalks for stuff to use.
As I got more comfortable in my new surroundings, I got comfortable with my practice again, and began drawing and painting the objects themselves--sort of easing myself back into representation.
And then the intent of the paintings and drawings started to come full-circle. I stopped replicating the found objects, and began inventing new ones as I went, playing with color and structure in a looser, imaginary environment. I found I enjoyed pulling the recurring ingredients--feathers, wire, grasses, drinking straws--from my mental toolkit as much as I liked dusting them off in the street. The paintings became about improvisation and discovery within a prescribed form, much like the original constructions.