I am interested in what happens when intuition and structure are allowed to exist at the same time.

I rarely begin a painting with a clear image in mind. The early stages are built through movement, color, repetition, and instinct. I layer paint, make marks, cover them, disrupt them, and continue until something begins to suggest a direction. At some point, the process shifts. I become more deliberate, looking for relationships between shapes, areas of tension, moments of rest, and places where the composition needs support or resistance.

That shift between freedom and control is important to me. I am drawn to geometry and structure, but I do not want the work to feel overly controlled. I want evidence of chance, imperfection, revision, and time to remain. Sanding back through the surface allows earlier decisions to reappear, giving the finished painting a history that could not have been planned from the beginning.

I often think about systems and relationships while I work: how separate parts affect one another, how structure can create stability, and how something can feel balanced without being symmetrical or predictable. These ideas can come from the natural world, the built environment, human interaction, or simply from the painting itself.

Painting also gives me a space for reflection. Through the repeated process of making, covering, revealing, and responding, I am often working toward both a visual and internal sense of resolution.

I do not think of resolve as perfection. For me, it is the moment when the painting stops asking for something more.