As with so much of what he undertakes, Posey likes to draw parallels between painting and the racetrack. "The studio and the cockpit really are enough alike that things have not changed so much," he says. "It all seems to me to be a search for a visual order. During the race, you go from chaos to a point where you've mastered the precise number of inches you use turning into a curve. With painting you're negotiating the canvas and waiting for the painting to speak to you. By the end, if you succeed, it does, and it's just like the racetrack."
But surely there are disparities. Certainly, says Posey, and he is more than happy to point them out as well. "Of course the racing day is over with the end of the competition," he says. "It's a wonderful release. The driver's life is terrific—simple, immediate gratification, a highly structured existence. It kind of extends your childhood. Painting isn't at all like that. It always makes me wonder why I'm not up at 3:00 a.m., trying harder."
Posey grows atypically quiet for just a moment as he considers his myriad passions. "I'm an amateur at all these things, a kid in some ways," he says. "But I'm an enthusiast."
Posey pauses again and continues, "You know, my real dream was to grow up to be a great Ping-Pong player. I'm really passionate about Ping-Pong."