I am transfixed by the pregnant moment, the slice of a moment bursting with potency. In now. If a moment were a pie, the image I am captivated by is a slice of the pie so narrow that it becomes a line. The world is in eternal flux and the images that tug at me are transient, rife with what happened before and what may come after, but the past or the future is not so important. The moment is now. The moment paused, for a moment. Painting allows me to dwell and dream on the ephemeral ripeness of a fraction of time.