by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 2000
I keep a sketchpad next to the bed for recording ideas which arrive as I am falling asleep or waking up… prime time for my “muse channel.” 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 2000
EBB and FLOOD were done on faith-it didn’t matter if anyone –even myself– understood what they were about, they had to be made real.I was having a conversation about my work with Betsy Wollheim, longtime friend and smart editor/publisher. She said,... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 2000
Faced with the prospect of cancer surgery, I thought that while awash in pain killers I might at least experience some interesting dreams. Instead I found that the medications did exactly the opposite, completely deadening any creative sense I had. My net sum of... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1999
At times the light of knowledge seems to only illuminate the negative side of our existence and becomes a burden to the spirit. He is considering letting it go –“ignorance is bliss”– as he makes his difficult journey towards the light of the... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1999
On close examination the linear form the man is climbing is marked with gradations like a ruler. At the time I painted SCALE, I was thinking a lot about our innate drive to quantify, judge or rate aspects of our collective human experience. We can’t seem to... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1997
It is frequently assumed that if we try hard enough, there are no limits to our understanding of the universe. As wonderful a thing as the human brain is, there is a finite number of neurons and synapses available to store information and inform decisions, just as we... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1997
The window contains a beautiful but threatening view, seen from a place of illusory refuge. 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1992
The perspective is false. For some reason, whenever I tried to make the picture do what I wanted it to do via the conventional laws of perspective, it lost its focus, the feel of ascending immensity going on forever. So I discarded true perspective in order to paint... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1992
The colors came from a foggy morning walk at a reservoir near my home. The water was a deep organic green and the air was so full of mist that the color of the water seemed to leach out, turn transparent, and fade to nothing before me. The fossils on the pier were... 
by Michael Whelan | Jan 1, 1992
This is a precursor to my Lumen series. The way to the light is a long and arduous journey. 