Paint is a living language for me, with grammars and nuances that challenge me beyond any other intellectual or creative pursuit that I have ever experienced.For some people paint is simply a material, another medium, and a very traditional medium at that. For others it is the Bible — the Holy WRIT. Or it is the Constitution. Divine what the Founding Fathers intended and strictly adhere to it, or risk anarchy. For others, it is one minor piece in a complicated art world chess GAME, a pawn to be moved about in a theoretical construct of art practice. Relevant or irrelevant? Dead or alive?That is one set of questions that, naively, doesn't trouble me.For me, painting as a language and practice is alive and changing all the TIME.I study it. I try to keep up with it. I struggler to speak it better. I am thrilled when I hear others speak it well. I love visiting countries where it is spoken. I get excited when I discover someone who is adding another layer to its tapestry of possibilities. And that is happening all the time. RIGHT now. As we speak.Painting is the magical conjunction of space/no space; movement in stillness. A balanced EXPERIENCE of absorption and self-awareness. Slow looking.