The reason in my paintings is more than I can know. It is not for me to know the culmination of the visible with the invisible, the psychological with the fantasy. Only when a painting is viewed by another and their interpretation does the artist live. My intention is irrelevant. I have had the pleasure of the making but not of the meaning.
In reflection I don't think my paintings speak of me in my time. I don't see a relationship of their imagery to the current events of my time. Rather they stand outside of time. Some of that idea I like while yet at other times I wish they were more relevance in a larger play. Yet perhaps the question is mute as I am in my time making what I will. So, is that not relevant to the colour and air around me that is around you?
I do not need the viewer to understand my intention. I ask them to consider their own reaction, likes and dislikes. I'm not so sure it is the role of art to bring "understanding" but rather to remind us that we are more than what we seem. I thought as I grew up I would understand life and the world. I have more questions now than I did then. I "understand" less and less while still wanting more and more.
Whatever "reason" exists between the art maker and the world is a mystery of proportion that only you can tell me. I'm counting on the interpretations you will give to me. Making art validates me but your reactions are life confirming and super sweet.