I am not inspired to paint. I am inspired by painting. It’s the process itself, the conversation with the piece as it emerges, that creates the momentum and determines the direction. I apply colour and form as freely as I can, and then allow what’s on the canvas to suggest the next steps. The destination of the work always has to be “right” in itself, rather than “right” as a representation of something outside of itself.
That said, certain ideas seem to recur naturally. There is a unifying underlying language. The paint—its forms, colours and textures—seems to want to express something about the will of nature to make connections, its use of energy to bind atoms and molecules into organic forms. I see these ideas emerging as I create a new piece. Sometimes I will respond by zooming in on moments or molecules because they feel extraordinary to me. At other times I will accept that there is an immoveable layer or veil before me, whose windows or tears enable glimpses of an organic world beyond. In that respect, each new piece is a conversation between me and the medium about this other conversation between me and the world.

In the end, I want my work to express the beauty and harmony inherent in these ideas.

I like the boldness of acrylics, and they lend themselves well to an important aspect of my process, which is to work over an initial ground soon after it is finished, before applying sometimes several additional layers as the picture makes its way to its final form. Often I use pencil too to create texture and looseness.​​​​​​​

The most important thing for me is a feeling of balance and naturalness. I want my paintings to feel like meaningful interventions and yet also like things that have always existed, or that could evolve naturally.