You’re bushwhacking in the jungle. Weaving through thick brush, darkness creeps up on you. You suddenly glimpse two shiny eyes, a paw, stripes. A tiger!

My paintings unfold in that millisecond between sight and recognition, the instant between seeing stripes and running for your life. At this moment, fragments of things don’t quite add up. In my paintings, a woman’s elbow dissolves into her knee, a vista shifts into blotches of color. Through strokes, scrapes, and pours, my work depicts a fractured sensory world.

Glitches in perception happen all the time: You slap your own cheek to kill a mosquito. She’d been hovering around you for a while. Now, her crushed body is smeared across your hand and your jaw. Whose blood is this? It feels foreign . . . You shuffle through your bag for a tissue.