Restraint is not hesitation. It is a decision made quietly. It requires wisdom. In the studio, there is often more that could be done than should be done. The impulse to add, to resolve, to clarify too quickly is constant. Restraint asks for the opposite response: to pause, to withhold, to allow the work to remain open a little longer. Has the painting said enough? Or is the desire to continue coming from elsewhere? These questions place you face-to-face with self-awareness.

There are often several paintings unfolding at the same time. Not as a strategy, but as a necessity. One image asks a question that another cannot answer. The questions return, quietly. Does this surface resist, or does it yield?   Is the paint meant to assert itself, or disappear?   Should the stroke arrive heavy and deliberate,   Or thin enough to fall away from the canvas? The safety net is rarely present. More often, there is only doubt and the need to remain with it. I r

I used to believe that clarity preceded work, that one arrived at the studio already knowing what needed to be done, and that painting was largely a matter of execution. Experience has taught me otherwise. I am often asked whether I plan what I am going to paint, or whether I follow a set of drawings laid out in advance. The answer is always the same. I never know what the finished work will look like. What I do know is that I am called to paint, to place colour beside colour