Without purpose, we are just occupying space until death. I often wonder if I will be remembered in death, as I am sure we all do from time to time. We can only act today in hopes of leaving a footprint for the future judges. Maybe they will have mercy on us and view our material reminders with kindness.

A black man once told me a story about the black water devil. Both his father and his preacher, on two separate occasions, were fishing on a Sunday morning. His father was at Cross Lake in Shreveport, Louisiana when a manlike creature, no bigger then three feet tall came up out of the water and started screaming at him, "eeeeeeeeeeeee". It was slick and black from head to toe and resembled something from the bowels of the earth or the pits of Hell. He left in such terror, never again did he dare go fishing on Sunday. The other occasion was his preacher on the Red River. He looked up on the shore and the water devil was standing there watching him. The two creatures descriptions were identical. So, it must be said that if you don't want to be visited by these entities, make sure you are in church on Sunday morning and not out fishing.

Isolated in an abstract cell, a boy contemplate his life and future. The ceiling of the room is a strip torn from a phonebook, his connection to the outside world. The dark sun is an intrusive eye, but warming in the pink sky. This is the moment before the first step.

The sun rises on seven figures as the rouse from slumber to discover where theirs lives had lead. In the distance, the city of Hell rises like a flaming Alamo on the lake of acid. Is this truly their first day or do they feel the terror of discovery every morning?

This corkscrewed pine grew behind the church I went to when I was a child. Over the years, the weather and time took their toll on the old tree until, in decay, it started to fall. Likewise, the membership of the church fell because of internal fighting and the loss of new members, possibly because of the strife. Now, along with my childhood, both are gone. This painting was symbolic of the passing of time and the loss of things dear. All of these things will be missed.

Reason and Greed cannot co-exist. Reason does not always give Greed the answers he wants. So, Greed kills reason to be the only voice.

This was painted for a friend in Kentucky who was sick of winter. I was hoping this painting would somehow magically end the current season and welcome in spring. It is a figurative, abstract landscape.