Artists see both the devices that make the illusion and the illusion itself. I am as interested in the way that something is represented—the marks and colors on a flat surface—as the thing that is ultimately depicted. It is the shifting from a painted two-dimensional surface to an illusion of space that most interests me, that drew me to painting in the first place, and that continues to compel me.

The world around me, and the paintings I make representing it, contain distinct narratives. Culture's interaction with a particular physical environment over time is everywhere evident in the unique appearance of a place or a room. Landscape and rooms tell stories —people may not be visible but their actions and histories are evident in every detail. The human artifacts of buildings and cars, bridges and levees evoke powerful associations. A painting may distill the meaning of a string of events and what appears commonplace suggests a world that, through the accumulation of detail, sheds its everydayness. These associations create a poetry that I respond to when I paint or draw.