Practice

Where a painting starts

I pull out a canvas and start with one thing. Then it becomes a flow that pulls me forward. I don't plan it. If I'm set up right, without too many distractions, I stay in that flow and paint intuitively until the painting tells me where it's going.

The parallel place

For a long time I held back. I wanted to make something perfect, something aesthetically acceptable, and I felt like a prisoner. It was only when I let myself experiment, just doing what came to me in the moment, that I realized there's a kind of parallel universe I get in touch with when I'm creating. I don't know how to explain it any better than that. When I stop premeditating, I synchronize with it. That's what I'm painting from.

Silence

Working in silence lets me stay in touch with my creative side without distractions. Sometimes music helps me get there. I'm a big fan of Steve Reich and certain classical playlists. The music that works is the music that's doing the same thing I'm doing in that moment.

Imperfect on purpose

I'm constantly experimenting and making imperfect things. That's not a stage I'm passing through. It's the practice. The process is cathartic, and the painting is almost a byproduct of it.

In front of people

The live mural at DTLA Art Night was a test for myself: could I find that flow state with hundreds, maybe thousands of people walking by and watching? I could. I painted a 21-foot wall in about three hours, completely uninterrupted inside. Maybe they could feel the energy. I hope so.

Why

Most of us live on autopilot, repeating what we've been shown. I believe every single person is an artist with their own way of seeing, and it just gets clouded by trauma and wanting to fit in. My work is my way of seeing, offered so that the people who get it might start seeing things new for themselves.