I love talking about art. I love jargon, references, challenging viewpoints and deciphering meaning in other artist’s compositions. But artists shouldn’t talk about or attempt to explain their own work because, to paraphrase Francis Bacon, explanation doesn’t deepen the mystery.

Everything to know about my paintings is either there on the canvas, or it isn’t. Spelling it out will not make it better, just like a joke isn’t funny if you have to explain it. I try to make good art. Hopefully it’s there on the canvas.

Every painting where the motivation has come from me thinking the subject is salable, or that a wider audience would respond to it has been a failure. Those are the pieces that still hang on my walls as a cautionary tale, while the ones where the subject interests and excites me all continue to find homes. But failure is valuable experience, and learning to trust myself as an artist is an ongoing lesson.

If I had to give one statement about my education in art, and insight into the work I try and create, it would be that capturing and conveying a likeness, which used to be very important to me, interests me less with every passing day. Technology has given us endless ways to capture the objective world. I’m interested in a personal, subjective take. But old habits die hard. Hopefully it’s there on the canvas.