At first, the painterly process is purely intuitive, with a focus on the body in a physical, gesture-based movement. The paint flows, runs, splatters. A cascade of blinding light that has no shape and simply aims to be its own colour. Most often, a red constitutes the base coat.
Gradually, observation, thought, knowledge and reflection make their way into the process. The canvases are eyed from every angle and paint is wiped away and added on with rags, brushes and hands. The paintings seem to virtually paint themselves through the distinct characteristics of the material itself. Liquids, solvents, oils and media collide and clash, create effects and trigger chemical reactions.
Motifs and landscapes emerge, insinuate and reveal themselves. I often paint over and start from the beginning. Or sand away at layers and expose time in structures and line play. Layer upon layer of attempts and assertions.
The colour scale goes towards the black, dim, dark, dampened and the glittering. With colour and light as an echo. A search for a shimmering glow, a light that slowly emerges or is just on the verge of disappearing. In the darkness that is not entirely dark. In the dampened that is nevertheless still vibrant. A sense of ambivalence.
When the painting is finished it suddenly goes quiet. It distances itself from me. It bears all the contradictory and complex perspectives and layers in itself. I occasionally test the resilience of a completed painting, comparing it to thoughts of what could have been, as a means of questioning its finality. And if it passes the test, it continues being finished.