Morgan is a Welsh word for the edge of the sea and for me this makes a great deal of poetic sense. As much as artists are observers I've always had a feeling of doing so from the periphery. I remember a summer vacation when I was four years old at a beach on Cape Cod standing waist deep in the bay. The sun was high and there must have been a good deal of humidity in the still, warm air. The light was bouncing off the water and most everything else and there was all this brightness and vague forms and masses dissolving into a magical distance at the edges of my sight. I imagined mysterious places and uncharted lands.
And so I’ve become a painter of nature, an explorer at the edge of sight. But the mysterious lies even at the edge of the familiar: that odd tree on the lip of the dell, the entrance to a cave in the wooded hill, something unnamed over that ridge. Whether on a walk in the woods or in front of a painting I relish finding passageways, things in the margins, insistent peculiarities. In both the observed and the remembered there is a memory underground, a force which operates in the background like a generator of ideas. Here, where observation meets the subconscious, stumbled upon forms and invented configurations arrive in the playfully natural and atmospheric world of these paintings.