‘What is the essence of a pair of pants? (if there is such a thing) Certainly not that crisp and well pressed object to be found in department store racks; rather that clump of fabric on the floor, negligently dropped there when the boy stepped out of them, careless, lazy, indifferent. The essence of an object has some relation with its destruction.’ (Roland Barthes) I am interested in those random choices that we make, the small ones…Which seat on the bus? Randomness is central to the making of the work. The first marks are frivolous, filling in a space. The next; spontaneous, arbitrary meanderings, conscious and unconscious. Pouring and dragging the paint allows large areas to be covered quickly, or rather, covered with the control and ease of an area much smaller and also allows the unexpected to occur. As the layers build up, the depth grows, they seem to have their own logic and the painting, its own internal momentum. The paint takes on a fugitive nature, the paintings; a fugitive vision, like snapshots, fragmentary glimpses. The marks made later on, the ones with more clarity, are analogous, perhaps, to punctuation. The final mark, the full stop at the end of the chapter. The elements are not so important in themselves. It is how they relate to one another, where they are placed, (or rather, where they are not placed) how they are placed and when. The rhythm, the timing, the absent minded watchfulness. (Anton Ehrenzweig) What is left behind (the finished painting) is a residue, an evidence of an existence, an existence which is full of abandoned intentions, tensions, surprises, necessities. A broken down truth.

Courtesy of the artist.