I am a process-driven painter, endlessly curious about what image-making can reveal about life as matter. I use the painting-state to be in relationship with the object of creation itself. I only want to know what art can gift us once the artist has left the building and any notion of 'saying something' has been left at the door. Why is it, that paint applied in total freedom will reconcile into a painting?

I believe the work of an artist is to mature their relationship with art, through the act of making. Nothing more. Art belongs to a context distinct from all other pursuits in that it transcends the person doing it. Or at least it should. The further I have moved away from illustrating, elucidating, describing, or consciously generating aesthetic value, the greater the content of my work. It's a curious paradox, both timeless and infinite.