Painting is where internal and external experience mix. It’s a way to process and relate to the world, like conversing with a person or chewing food. My response to events is to bring them into an image—to interpret, to make them something I can see. Working becomes a space of illumination. In the openess of the page, metaphors pop up like sudden jokes. Imagination here isn’t about escape or fancy; it’s a path to understanding.
I use oil paint. It's changeable and mixes easily with the eye, ready to become something, as if it has its own desires. Watching closely reveals something of the mystery of substance and image altogether, how material and mind conspire to form experience. I attend to the vitality of the surface. There are moments of recognition, passages that share in a lineage.
Both the thought of an image and the perception of its materials are held by the same mind; that equality feels essential. The world is built moment by moment from sensation, memory, and inherited narrative. I marvel when an image cuts through the fog of concept, creating a dreamlike clarity—clear but unintelligible, questioning. Painting is a way of testing the edges of reason and finding the soft spots.