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That anyone still takes hours to prepare a painting in a culture
where millions of images have washed over as many eyeballs is hard to
understand.  Such conditions are hardly appealing to the person who
thinks visually and expresses his sense of presence on the planet
with brush and canvas.

Yet as an artist, I cannot stay indifferent to my vocation and must
express my dreams of hope for  mankind.  The marketplace culture
where all these images vie for attention in effect become a
challenge.  Is there life behind total image saturation?  Can the
dispossessed have a voice?  Can a  desperate artist find an epiphany?