I have never not painted. As early as I can recall, I’ve spilled colors and patterns on the paper… sometimes mere scraps with whatever implement I could find.
As does the sun that rises… as do the birds that sing… I paint because I must. I disappear into the realm of the unseen and return with a translation of a felt Reality.
Is there a plan? Somewhat – a rudimentary outline of a subject at hand. Then I depart… my hands move, compelled. I work in minute detail, an inch at a time, pushing colors inexplicably upon the pastel board. When I step back, I am always surprised to see the world, larger than life.
My Mom, Janet Vidoli DuHaime, was my greatest fan. She too was an artist through and through. Painfully I watched her brilliance fall prey to the ravages of Alzheimer’s. In her honor, in effort to eradicate this illness, I offer proceeds from my paintings.