The Process of Painting

My process of making a painting is rarely the same. Often, my work starts off as little more than a response to something that captures my attention at that time. This can be a feeling, an object, a place, or an experience. I trust my instinct to make marks with whatever material feels right. Sometimes its crayon or oil, other times collage, or I may feel compelled to rework an old canvas. There is a strong sense of knowing in this process and there is always trust.

The initiator, whether it is the feeling, object, place, or experience loses its importance once I start making marks on the surface. Then the materials take over and somewhere in the process the essence of the starting points remains. I used to plan my work but then I understood that thought and action need to work simultaneously if I want to visualise my visceral feelings. A carefully planned work can feel superficial through the challenge of trying to express and record the depth of the instinctual force that initiated it.

I see my work as a bridge between what I see and what I experience. To create work outside of such innate and instinctive moments by working to a plan disrupts the natural flow between my inner and outer worlds.