I have often asked myself why I so doggedly hold on to painting. My process is one of cancelling out options by moving through one destroyed layer after the other, and It takes me a long time to arrive at the final image. Rarely do I feel content with the outcome, but for me, no other medium compares. Restricted by the edges of a rectangle, one moves inert paste around until it takes on muscle and structure, appears luminous and spacious, and suddenly the rectangle can contain the world. Just as in real life, change is the governing force as every mark affects the larger whole.
I have always been interested in the psychology of space. Much of the challenge and excitement for me in painting stems from my desire to show interior and exterior realities at once. Lately, I have been focused on stage like landscapes where battles are carried out between man made and nature’s forces. I see these landscapes as metaphors for us and for a battle that is carried out within us.

For myself, I saw a definitive shift that paralleled our political climate. Just like our reality has been upended in this post-truth, post-postmodern world, I could no longer trust my own conceptual framework. I became mistrustful of my authority over painted grandiose gestures, of bodies of works being connected by intellectual ideas, by language. For a while, I gave up large-scale painting and had to break down how I approach making work. As a result, my work has become more raw and clunky. Someone once called me a “primitivist,” and though not meant as a compliment, I was flattered. If I could get to a place with my work that could transcend labels, categories, identities, I would feel successful.
 
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