My Process

I rarely begin with a plan. More often, a colour leads me in — and it is almost always blue.  

Blue holds something of my orientation to the world. It is the colour of water, of sky, of openness. It evokes calm, but also a depth that invites reflection. As a sailor, blue is where I feel most at home, whether at sea or in silence. There is a spiritual quality to blue for me: it offers space, possibility, a sense of presence.  

 

In the studio, I work through motion. I put on my salopettes, choose a song, and begin. Music plays a central role in my process. Each painting is created to a single track, which becomes the emotional and rhythmic thread of the piece. I respond to the sound physically, allowing my body to guide the composition. I paint standing, crouching, reaching; pushing paint across the surface with gestures that are improvised and visceral. The early stages are raw. I don’t aim for beauty. I begin with mess, and let the form emerge through the act of doing.  

 

There is always more in the work than meets the eye. I’m not interested in ornament. Each painting carries symbolic meaning, shaped intuitively but deliberately. I work in layers, of paint, of emotion, of gesture, until something settles. What begins as instinct becomes, through repetition and rhythm, a kind of clarity.  

 

Lately, I’ve been using wide rollers, letting their weight drag pigment across the canvas in broad, unbroken sweeps. Other times, I return to my hands, or reach for thick brushes. The tools shift depending on the pace of the piece, but the process remains physical, responsive, and rooted in the desire to translate feeling into form.