On Light and Resistance

I don’t start paintings with light.
Light, in my work, arrives later — after layering, after uncertainty, after sitting with what resists being resolved.

I’m drawn to moments of passage: thresholds, crossings, the space between before and after.
These are not clean moments. They are uneven, textured, and often quiet.

Paint behaves much like memory.
It holds what has been placed beneath it — revealing and concealing at the same time.

I’m less interested in perfection than I am in presence.
This is the work I return to, again and again.