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Dana Roberts

One could say that painting is a conversation, a talking with the unknown. The lexicon is color and shape and surface and line; edges abutting edges sharply or bleeding, seeping, blurring. The lexicon is movement in space and stillness in space. It is balance, either stable or tentative, standing or falling, just catching itself. Painting is its own language for which there is no translation.

When Air Breaks a Promise, oil on linen, 46.5 x 49.5 in.
Wade In Shallow Water, oil on linen, 47 x 49 in.
Paused in Contradiction, oil on linen, 45 x 49 in.
The Thirst of Small Bees, oil on linen, 25 x 31 in.
Sense/Reference, oil on linen, 25 x 31 in.
Field Notes, oil on linen, 25 x 31 in.
Much is Known, oil on linen, 24 x 25 in.