My paintings inhabit a space between representation and abstraction — a threshold I've come to think of as essential. It's in that in-between territory that possibilities stay open, where figures can become almost mythical, and where a single work can hold more than one kind of truth.
Working in oils with brushes, painting knives, and other tools, I paint figures in contemplation or in motion — characters whose inner lives are palpable, whose feelings and thoughts press against the surface. I don't always know where they're going. That's part of the work. They journey to unknown lands, and I get to go along and discover them too.
These paintings are informed by intuition, experience, and reflection. They ask to be sat with. Their meanings deepen over time, the way a journey grows richer in the telling. I think of making them as an act of seeking — a pursuit of clarity, of connection, of positive action in a world that can feel uncertain.
After more than five decades of painting, I remain as drawn to the mystery of the canvas as I was at the beginning — perhaps more so.