This series of self-portraits as a chicken is an exploration of how I feel about being a prolific artist, how I feel about having that power.

Making art for me seems to be as natural and as common as laying an egg. Which is not to say that it is always easy, because it isn't. It requires great effort to be who I naturally am. This also doesn't mean all my paintings are brilliant. (Whose are?)

I'm more than a little embarrassed by my generative capacities; isn't "real art" supposed to be agonized, stuttering, produced by rare fugitive momentary breakthroughs into a transcendent exalted realm, far beyond the grim mundane?

While I do experience mystic transport when I paint, that too is a humble, daily occurrence. I crow over my fresh wet works like my hens used to cackle and trumpet over their just-laid eggs.

So for all these reasons, for the duration of this series, chicken is my symbol for Self.