I sometimes approach a new series with an intention of what it’s going to express or achieve or even look like, but the paintings never ever turn out consistent with that intention. What I discover after I’ve painted is usually something profound, something that changes my thoughts and identity in some way. There’s usually a quality in the series’ that is an expression of a current element of my identity, or an exploration of a problem or issue with which I’m dealing at the moment, but that comes through regardless of my intellectualized intention of what the painting or series is going to BE. There’s a great feedback loop, where what’s painted is certainly coming FROM me and is strongly connected to who I am, but I discover some part of myself in the painting, something that wasn’t intended and something I didn’t even know was present. My own art gives me a lens through which to view myself and the world in a way that is otherwise impossible. And beyond that, it seems to push through new ideas and WAYS of viewing myself and the world. In this way, I don’t paint what I discover; I discover what I paint.