The drive towards abstraction always exists--whatever the eye thinks it perceives in reality or imaginative figments, is never enough for me. Yet I really can’t fully untangle that brain pattern from where my creative urge goes. It’s as though what’s “out there” has to feed through something instinctual and come alive in ways I can’t even predict. I stop and look at what’s produced and wonder about it. I’m pretty sure from talking to others that my appraisal of what I’ve made and its meaning differs from that of a viewer. We create meaning together perhaps.