For me, painting is really about how I put paint on the surface. The tools I use and the materials I choose matter a lot, but what matters most is the process itself. From the moment I decide to start until the moment I stop, that’s painting. That stretch of time—full of confusion, clarity, hesitation, and discovery—is everything.

I usually begin with some loose ideas about color or composition, but those ideas almost always shift as I work. Painting has a way of taking me somewhere I didn’t expect. I often feel uneasy or restless, even anxious, about where things are going. And yet, that’s when surprises happen—when something unexpected shows up on the canvas and just works.

Funny enough, things I thought were mistakes sometimes turn out to be the best parts. I never really know exactly when a painting is done. I just reach a moment in the process that gives me the confidence to say, “Okay, this is it.”

And yes, in the end, I have to like it. That’s important. But liking it doesn’t mean it has to be pretty or traditionally beautiful. It just has to feel right.