I paint things in my own life, things I am comfortable enough with to push any which way. Sometimes a beautiful object that has found its way to my studio, or a vivid memory, prompts a painting, but it rarely remains. Almost always another image bubbles up on top, and the final painting is steeped with the history of previous attempts. Or I’ll reverse my process and start with pure color and eventually find cakes and BBQ grills written in the pigment. Embedded in these ways of working is my biggest fixation: form and content being equally present and aware of each other. The illusion of a whole world and the reality of paint’s limitations at the same time. One minute, it’s thick chocolate frosting, the next, a pile of old dry scrapings that refused to budge.