I paint because it helps me find other reasons to stay alive. When my fever was the worst I was haunted by images that I could only puke out by using my hands to make marks. Then I could sleep better. When I started painting things started changing, I was safer. My paintings are sometimes my best friends or my lovers, (the only ones that always call me back), and sometimes such a toothy boxing opponents that I have to stab them w scissors and mince ‘em up. Usually though, they are supreme conversationalists, challenging my beliefs in the sublime. I use trash and discarded materials, hyper saturate their color and create worlds where excrement constitutes, hyper active dreamscapes that allure and repel. I've always been committed to the grotesque, but beauty keeps growing on me. Maybe like the best kind of moss.