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The act begins with an image charged with intensity—a memory that pulls at me. Before the painting calls itself into being, textures take shape in charcoal and pastel. My body greets the canvas with urgency.

Everything I produce is material waiting to be disassembled. This is the game I play with the work, or perhaps the game it plays with me.

Bodies fuse and boundaries dissolve. Deformed shapes seek fresh judgment. My characters are tough; they pose for me, demanding a witness. I focus on stoic countenances, capturing the tension of an impulse held back.

My work seeks revenge for the clowns who must hide their true selves for the sake of entertainment.