For me, there is something magical about painting. Through small acts of physical contact--the brush combining with pigment and touching the canvas--an image, something new, is created.
I'm fascinated by the fact that all color within a painting is interdependant. If I introduce a touch of green in the upper left of the canvas, the blue in the lower left will change. With the addition of one color, all the other colors will redefine themselves; some will recede, some advance, others vibrate.
While a painting is 'open' (while the possibilities are emerging and exposed), it's a constantly shifting proposition--a set of suggestions that can explode or contract in response to a single brushstroke. The possibilities are exciting but also, sometimes, overwhelming.
I often introduce a color I know to be discordant--a color that will throw the painting out of balance. It's in the struggle to assimilate this difficult or intrusive color that the painting assumes a new tension. I have to struggle to rediscover the balance, to redistribute the weight of the painting, while keeping the sense of danger, of vitality, alive. For me, this is the most exciting part of the process, but it's also the most perilous.
In many paintings there is a moment of truth when all the elements seem to converge. In some paintings this never happens. I want my paintings to be alive, to suggest that the exploration could continue. I want them to be permeated by a sense of motion, of animation and discovery.