Paintings are like a dialogue for conversation. How do you start? One could pick a subject and start talking, or just start talking. I prefer to just start talking. Although I begin each painting believing that I have no subject or roadmap, each painting slowly reveals one. I paint for that revelatory experience. I think of Miles Davis saying, “it takes you a long time to sound like yourself.”

As I work, I try to maintain two opposing thoughts. I try to make every decision and move as if it’s my final one. The painting must be the best it can be at each state – there is no planning ahead. This idea tends to make everything immediate and intense, but because it is contradicted by the notion that there are no right answers, and that nothing is ever finished, I can proceed quickly and intuitively. There is inevitably time to respond to mistakes (I consider mistakes to be intelligent accidents) and make changes. I love the fact that painting (and living) is plastic.

If I haven’t had a significant experience with a painting, I’m usually not interested and often eventually dive back in. I don’t always understand what I’m doing and even find it important to be slightly confused; like making sense of a puzzling dream. At some point the paintings seem like abstract narratives. They don’t TELL a story they ARE a story.

When I’m working, I’m thinking about how to apply paint, scale, proportion and relationships of hue, value and intensity. I put down a first color, then a second one as if that could complete the painting. Then I allow myself another try, then another and so forth. As each work evolves unexpectedly over time, I know it’s working when I am surprised by the result.