The aroma of spent fuel fills the air. I cannot help but feel the throbbing of the exhaust against my body. “Give it some gas!” someone yells out. “Make the tires bark!” Pressing down the throttle while holding the brake, the engine builds up torque. I smile and release the chains that hold the beast. The wheels suddenly brake and spin maniacally. Whitish-blue smoke bellows from the rear wheel wells. Rubber peppers the lower quarters of the body. The car is pulling and I am forced back into my seat as the front end lifts. I have to stay ahead of the smell of burning rubber.
How would I know that a simple prayer at the age of twelve would change my life? The manifestation of my prayer miraculously arrived as a neglected, abused and rotting Plymouth Cuda.
I try to capture through my paintings the overall sensual pleasure that I feel when viewing muscle cars. The way paint embraces the cast or forged steel. How oil can transform steel from cold and dead to lusciously wet, warm and soft as a living being. The parallel between cars and humans is remarkable in the way they functionally mimic each other. Take for example, the engine. It is the heart of the car-it breathes, pumps and brings out the personality of the car. Turning the ignition brings the car to life. We as humans have a natural desire to form and cast things in our own image. We have a yearning to create like our God.
I want the viewer to feel the wet cast steel, to feel the warmth of the engine, to feel the rumble of the exhaust against their body. I want to generate life in my paintings. In doing so, the viewer can enter a new environment-one that they have never seen or experienced before.