I combine the random actions of painting with controlled, deliberate mark-making to describe each form in my work, which often appears floral or plantlike in structure. The canvases are composed of organic forms that derive from those found in nature, but ultimately the paintings are a visual record of an unplanned dialogue between myself and a blank canvas. Together the marks and forms create a visual language that reads as something unique to each viewer. I position these forms against a pale ground that at first glance appears to be an expanse of negative space, but is actually a built-up surface that, upon closer inspection, reveals the history of the layers of paint, which are more elevated from the surface of the canvas than the forms themselves. It is neither the form nor the ground that I explore in my work, but the relationship between these two. The space is pushed and pulled through the tension of positive and negative spaces and through the dynamic of the compositions, which generally tend to rotate or undulate within the framework of the canvas.
I could say that I intimate a certain relationship between physical and psychological space in my work, because in a sense that is true. But my approach to making a painting is more comfortable, intuitive, and personal than cerebral. And the result of this visual investigation—the painting—reflects that process. I am most interested in extracting singular experiences—snapshots—from life’s endless cycles of growth and decay, and in transforming the public, universal worlds of nature and human dynamics into sites of private knowledge.