Painting crept up on me while I was busy doing other things. Not that I haven’t been drawing and making things as far back as I can recall, I have. It found me early on but seemed to wander off again. Much as I meandered away from my art education, much as I lost all sense of why I became an illustrator. A painting finds me as if stalking something else beyond my view. I’m seized by it and almost always surprised by what it becomes. I rarely employ a formula. Every piece determines the method of its creation and each tends to develop organically, everything in flux until the last moment. I wouldn’t enjoy it otherwise.