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When I am in my painting, I'm not aware of what I'm doing.

Usually I am on a work for a long stretch, until a moment arrives when the air of the arbitrary vanishes, and the paint falls into positions that feel destined.

Painting seems like some kind of peculiar miracle that I need to have again and again.

My only worry is the painting I'm doing. Nothing else.

I have been told that some of my photographs maybe indicate that I am a painter.

I found I have to stay painting.

There are times when I've inhaled my work. There are artworks still inside of me.

When I finish a painting, it usually looks as surprising to me as to anyone else.

I've been painting and making things since I was little.

Often, I find it really hard to see what I'm doing when I'm in the thick of things. I can get too precious and have to force myself to put my paintings aside. There's a wall in my studio where I hang paintings that I think are done or nearly done. Over time, I'll realise which ones are working and which aren't.