At this moment in my life, I believe that God is time.
I’ve seen it. Not in the way people talk about it in churches. I’ve seen it move slowly, thick, almost cruel. I’ve seen it stop. I’ve seen it heal. And I’ve always, always seen it resolve things.
And that, to me, is fascinating.
It amazes me that even though time doesn’t always cure an illness, it eventually cures the cause—though sometimes late. And if you give it the chance, if you sit long enough and stop fighting it, time will heal your pride, your fear, your anger. It will calm you. It will change you. It will teach you what truly matters. And it will also show you how small you are.
That’s why I’m slowly learning not to run. To let time do its part. Not to force what isn’t ready. Not to escape.
So this painting is about that feeling—about taking a deep breath and letting the time I’ve lived in this city do its work. This is the last painting I’ll make in this studio, and with it I close my cycle in Milwaukee. This piece holds the warm white of the walls and floor of my studio, and the deep blue of the lake I visited almost every day. With this work, I leave written and signed that the Midwest taught me everything is a Matter of Time.