The act of painting is often seen to unearth what is ‘inside’ the artist, paint itself acquiring a revealing and subject-like force. We may consider watercolour to maximize this power. Watercolour has a closeness to life, the velocity of its marks steer the maker into the present moment and secure the essential contact between paper, ink and painter. Watercolour’s immediate and permanent stains have the ability to record specific incidents in time--like breaking open, crashing through, swimming away. 

With this in mind, I work obsessively across long scrolls of paper, trying to catch up with my present state of mind. I repeat the same image of my face, re-rolling the paper behind me. Each face turns out differently, by virtue of watercolour’s properties, but also my present mood. The difficulty of controlling the paint forces me to work attentively yet instinctively, in between accident and intent--arguably the reality of subjective experience. I would like interpretation to be halted or slowed down, so that a space might be opened up for whatever was left, the lack, the absence contained within every presence.