Life interferes with art sometimes, or is it the other way around? After a very long dry spell, seven or eight months, I've embarked on a radical new series. Floating. These look nothing like my Big Street Series that has engrossed me for the past 5-6 years. This is a scary proposition. This is a complete departure from my current body of work. All the demons I've had over the years have reared their ugly heads. They're saying thinkgs like: "you should stick to a "look""; "galleries and dealers want a body of work that's cohesive" etc, etc. Blah, blah, blah. The only thing I truly know is that I am enjoying this exploration. I feel energized and excited again. I am banishing the fear and demons by giving them the big "I don't care" look. Back to the studio, look at the new paintings, oooooh, aaaaah. Love them. Demons? Kiss my butt.