When someone tells me that they walked into a gallery or exhibit and immediately recognised my work among all the other work, I feel I have achieved a primary goal. It is an unintended consequence of my painting technique that my canvases have unique charteristics. My work almost always has a type of history, with new brushstrokes over old ones, fresh images over previous attempts or bright color dragged over muted tones. In a sense, they can be viewed as a sort of a painterly archeological dig.
Some of them develop rapidly and others evolve. Sometimes they take on a life of their own and move in a direction that I did not anticipate. It is fun to be suprised by what happens on the canvas.

Nearly 500 years ago, the artist and art historian Georgio Vasari noted that an artist's initial draft in the moment of inspiration had a vitality and sponaneity that became obliterated once the work was colored in. This observation struck a chord with me and I realized my approach to painting was almost like a painting being turned inside out. I put the work together, building structure, surface and color; then use sponaneous brushwork to finish it.