In naming this exhibit “Color My World” I tried to distill into three dry words all the many fluids, flavors and fantasies that, mixed together, make up the fuel of my creative engine. That may sound overly dramatic, but although I am told that too much retrospection in an exhibit can transform one into an alliterative poet, still one can be forgiven.

Color in all its vividness and intensity has always excited me. The world I used to know and the one I am living in today are still the same worlds of my inspiration, however much they have changed in place and manner. I persist in coloring these worlds with pigments of emotion and nostalgia until an old and musty memory becomes my new reality. A subtle and elusive encounter is resurrected into a sharp evocation of a sliver of time, a half-forgotten moment that surely mattered very much.

And while my paintings are all about nostalgia, a looking-back into memory to examine the details that really count, I still rely on my training and the immutable craft of painting to transform them into works of art. How else recall the delicious exotic dishes appearing from kitchens of far-flung places except with equally exotic color? Could I imagine a provincial homecoming without a laden table of comfort food bathed in sunny hues? Or how does one relive childhood hotel mornings and not paint in the urban grey tones of Gotham City?

And how cherish the remembered presence of a loved one better than to reform his aura by his absence?

The shapes and colors of memory can be both fragile and fierce.

They can soothe and they can also sting.

Those are the Colors of my World.