Jim Greenwood paints as if there’s no tomorrow. In fact, as his eyesight continues an inexorable decline, he is in a race against time.
     Jim suffers from Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), an incurable eye disease that leaves the retina covered with pigments and then scarred. First comes the loss of night vision. Then loss of peripheral vision. Then loss of central vision. The retina controls the ability to read, recognize faces and colors and to see objects in detail. “Being color blind, I use only red, blue and yellow on my pallet and mix them to get the desired hue. It’s the only way that works for me.” He is now legally blind having only ten percent of his vision remaining.
     Jim is tall, outwardly in good health, with a background in both art and athletics, and a stint in the Marine Corps. For the last few years, he has been unable to drive a car. He needs assistance deciphering emails and reads from a device with copy enlarged to the maximum size. Yet, he paints. Furiously, because he has to. For decades, Jim’s paintings took a back seat to his career as a graphic designer with various Atlanta ad agencies and The Coca-Cola Company. He and his wife, Gayle, raised two children, sent them off to college, and looked forward to more time at the beach and in the mountains.
     Then, adversity came calling. When Jim’s condition worsened, he was forced to phase himself out of his day job. A gradual return to his passion of painting ensued. At first, there were a few landscapes. Still lifes that reminded him of the art he did for his classes at Florida State. Most of it was, in his words, “uninspiring and nothing that stood out from the crowd.” He was depressed by the loss of his graphics vocation and unenthused about his art. He worried about the future and his sight.
     Along the way, as his vision deteriorated, something happened. His paintings became different. Reality gave way to expressionism. Details gave way to vague, indistinct images. His work became conceptual. Landscapes looked as if they were seen from behind thick glass. Yet, colors were vibrant, exaggerated. His paintings were ambiguous and hopeful at the same time. 
     What was happening? Jim realized that he was now painting as he saw the world. The way he was now seeing it, legally blind. His work is stunning. It’s not mere expressionism. There is form and content. Shapes are loosely defined, objects are at times unrecognizable. The effect is emotional. One wants to stare at his paintings. They are, in a way, like life is to those of us who are not legally blind - indistinct and mysterious. There is a revelation in them that truth is not in the details. Rather it is shrouded in vagueness.

Denzil Strickland
Friend and former co-worker
Author of critically-acclaimd
“Swimmers in the Sea”