I like it when my paintings make me feel like I am not alone in the room, when a painting shows me a new code to play with. I begin with a pair of colors which might derive from a painting of a Tantric deity or a cereal box from the 1960’s. I paint lines as if I am following tributaries I’ve never seen before but seem familiar. Within the lines are sometimes stars. Or, I place tiny obstacles in the path to shift the scale and throw the lines off the trail on purpose. At those junctures, the lines become inflamed and secrete larger shapes. I try to see a syntax forming within the composition and make the whole thing rhyme with itself. Rhyming is the key.

In the composition of the painting, circulation is everything. Like water bubbling with air, blood effervesces into thoughts in the brain, flesh eventually transfigures; ashes and dust disperse and magnetize the mists exhaled by trees. Clouds fill and fall as rain into rivers flowing on and on, their journey destined for your teacup. I’d like my painting to be like offering you that cup of tea.