Beheld at the Last Stopinder

I spend most of my time trying to take things away. I take away until there is not much left, but what is left feels more honest. At the start, my mind is packed with ideas and shapes. I sit with them, I cross them out, I redraw and cover over and rub out until I see the bones. Sometimes I end up with almost nothing. But I trust that what stays behind might be stronger for it.

I want to make something that doesn't just show itself right away, but that waits for you. I want it to feel open, so you can bring yourself to it. I care about how the paint sits on the surface, how light moves through it. I use many layers, sometimes so many it becomes hard to count. Each layer is thin, almost like a breath. Together, they make a space you can fall into, if you look.