For the past seven years, I have painted about an old family house, a gathering place for four generations, and how its loss changed my conceptions of memory, belonging and my own inheritance of adulthood. The paintings emerge from a stream of consciousness drawing process that feeds a growing library of inspirations in sketchbooks. With such unusual and unordered sources, my paintings do not represent truth or reality, but are no less meaningful to me. They are like invented memories that have been fixed along side actual ones. Just as I hope it occurs for the viewer, I prefer the painting's mystery to draw out an evolution of interpretation. Since the sale of the house, the paintings' settings have shifted outdoors and lingered in the surrounding coastal landscape. And I've found that as my wife and I celebrate the recent arrival of our first child, I visualize scenes that speak of new wonder and possibility, while others still look backwards towards the distant doorstep.