Painting is an expression of my search for a connection with the seemingly alien world around me. I am fascinated by the way living objects affect each other and are changed by the world around them: the spacing of birds roosting; the texture of feathers fluffed against the cold; the tortured growth of trees bent, or even broken by the wind; the way branches arch to make way for the traffic of a road. My paintings reflect my personal mythology, the result of many hours, daily, of internal narrative. I hope others can find some personal meaning in my distraction.
    My work is as much about cyclical destruction as it is about creation, both in the processes of its production and the subjects presented. I carefully consider the materials used to create my works—I am particularly interested in using materials that are not often combined and that may be considered unconventional in the creation of gallery pieces.  For example, I use microscopic, reflective glass beads; mica powders; metal flakes; and even roofing tar. I often use roofing tar because of its unusually strong, appealing, translucent color. The rich ambers, vibrant blacks, and luscious chocolate browns which can be found in my paintings are almost exclusively the result of the tar’s influence on a very limited number of other paint colors in any given piece. I use oil-based and water-based paints interchangeably. To aid in the integration of these incompatible materials, I apply used solvents collected from house painters. I often spray or pool these different solvents onto the work as it is in process. Throughout the work's progression, I am careful to preserve much of the spontaneity of the materials' natural interactions with each other. These interactions are manifested in the finished pieces as bleeding edges on shapes, erosion of dissolved areas, and beaded forms.  
    As I apply the many meticulously constructed coats described above, my paintings become thickly layered with translucent materials, resulting in nuances reminiscent of ceramic glazes. I often move from intensely-colored under-paintings toward my more characteristic limited color palettes, leaving or re-exposing veiled reminiscences of the earlier vibrancy. During the repetitive nature of this layering, I develop an intimacy with each subject and each painting. As this relationship develops, I find myself less guarded and I work more freely. This liberation allows for random chaos, and ultimately, I feel that my unconscious has a profound influence on the finished product. The results are stark and raw pieces with intricately textured surfaces.