“Soft ground, butter lines.

Evocative scenes don’t always make sense, nor the process is aware of itself. It’s as innocent as a dog sleeping on the side of a country road, as the marks left on a kitchen towel after spilling coffee.

The reason you picked up a plate, prepared it, drew on it, then processed it, then printed; that’s very intentional. I wonder where this dichotomy sits with me and the scratches I leave on this earth, as much as in my butter brain.

The illusion that you’re doing something and you’re not. That you're not doing anything, but you are leaving a mark of it anyway.

There is an intentionality and chaos that strikes me every single time I make an image. I didn’t make an image, something else did, all the story of every step that took my hand on that plate. It’s all there, the biography of the mark it’s there with it.

You can't separate it like we do with language, it exists there in all its entirety, same time and space, past-present-future merged. As we all are and we don't know. We don't know anything at all anyway.”