In my childhood house on Alfred Street in Los Angeles, the walls were covered by literally hundreds of paintings. Far from all, but many had religious motifs and were often dark, gloomy portraits of Jesus in various stages of crucifixion. The artworks in our home had been collected by my father during his tumultuous gallery years and when he abandoned the family in 1969, these dreary paintings loomed on our walls for many years to come. Unsellable and obviously a painful reminder of my parent’s relatively short-lived marriage and its dramatic dissolve.
I mention this as it might explain why I am so much in love with colorful, nonfigurative, and semi-abstract motifs in my own artwork.