Painting is the byproduct of a deep engagement with environment, place and the physicality and materiality of painting and paint itself. Each surface in our environment embodies an inner-essence that is significant, not only in its outer-form, but also in substance. 

Making paint from raw inorganic and organic pigment procured from diverse geographic, social and cultural sources provides a personal belonging to and a communal exchange with unfamiliar territory. My choice to work with natural substances en lieu of pre-made art materials gives me the freedom to dictate the work's surface from a particle level. 

My recent work focuses on mingling and juxtaposing diverse terrains. Terrain can be defined not only as a geological place, but also a psychological space. Terrain encompasses both land matter and physical space and exists in nature as well as the built environment. People create, signify and impact terrain. Lately I am thinking about how my work questions the environment's future, not from a political standpoint per se, but from a point of unresolved vulnerability.

Each individual work, although seemingly diverse, has a strict set of criteria. Ultimately when it communicates a harmonious tranquility amidst apparent tension worthy of experiencing, then it is complete. This often takes months to achieve. Often, the work needs to be destroyed, cut into, sanded, or washed over in order to reveal its depth and sub-surface. There is a fine line between something that is too gritty and too pristine. Reaching that point of balance is an ongoing goal in order to convey my aesthetic and world view. 

Abstraction, or less information and more ambiguity, sets the stage for experiencing, open interpretation and  contemplation. My narrative, although interesting and often quite relevant to like minded material-geeks and scientists, becomes the less important backstory when standing in front of the work.