Nobody can argue that this isn't a bold and brazen departure for me. I was in an antique shop many years ago, and found this odd concrete rooster lawn ornament. Something about it struck me as being a dry and impersonal icon, almost a generic symbol for a totally static and stylized rendition of a rooster. It was just dry enough to be comical, and I immediately saw it as a subject for study. So many years later I decided to capture it again, only this time I would be using it as a vehicle for a bold new direction of fragmenting light and color into a blizzard of spots of paint. The more veils of dots I laid across the surface, the more atmospheric the entire piece started to become. Suddenly the air took on a certain substance and volume, and the mass of the heavy concrete bird seemed to push from front to back. Finding the same colors across the light and shadow and backdrop seemed to not only tie everything together, but it also provided levels of depth and space that each new color was pushing and pulling. I'm still not sure why this piece is so captivating, but I find myself staring into it again and again.