I paint large, to be stood in front of rather than looked at. The work begins as something familiar and lets it come apart — a surface, a pattern, a word everybody thinks they recognise — until what is left is closer to how a thing actually feels than to how it is named.

My titles ask the same question from different sides: where the centre of something endless might be, how one becomes many, what is left of the familiar once you stop being sure of it. The paintings are built up over long stretches, in layers that keep a record of every decision and reversal, so the finished surface still holds the process that made it.

The aim is not a picture of an idea but an encounter with one — large enough, and open enough, that the viewer finishes it.