The making of a space on a flat surface in such a way that allows the loss of orientation and scale is a magical thing to me. Placing into this, ambiguous objects that are part of that space is how I lose myself. To be able to see any detail of my surroundings, I have to rush out to the periphery of the Universe and look back from there. As if I'm looking back from the end of my life, or I'm a giant moving at the speed of light, and a painting has to be a blink of an eye but also a whole life. I have no sense of time whatsoever. There is quite simply, 'now' and then there is 'not now'.
Painting for me is an anxious process, as there are so many moments to capture in all the moments I spend painting; so much to gather before it disappears. The smaller the canvas, the more the paint, and the more moments spent on them. I paint to reveal possibility, to be able to see where I'm going, and to throw off confusing half-remembered baggage. I paint to find some sense of continuity in my disparate world. This is the view from where I'm standing.