I’m driven by a stubborn pursuit of intimacy with the physicality of outdoor environments and materials. I want to render the feeling of seeing, the strange eccentricities of the eyes and the way rudimentary marks can go deeper than realism to gesture at our bond with evocative landscapes. Six years ago, I made a break with synthetic pigments. The desire to make my own color from earth, plants and found objects isn’t atavistic — it’s an uncomfortable longing to prove that a contemporary relationship to bodies and matter can coexist with the fervor of ideas. I’m currently delving for points of intersection between image and embodiment, where materials stimulate a reaction, and the result illuminates flashes of connection between humans and the land. Until recently, my relationship to the living, non-human world has been private, impassioned, self-contained. Now, I’m focused on what this private relationship might mean to others, especially those whose ancestral history is much more deeply intwined than my own with the places I inhabit.