After all the calamities of the last year, all of the false certainties, and the repeated
drops of the other shoe- it feels like the only assertions one can make are
declarations of unknowing. And somehow unknowing seems natural to paintings,
despite their physical material right thereness. In the studio, I try to resist the too-
easy ones and push them around until I?m less sure of them, until they seem sure
only of their own contradictions, until they hold together, yes, but not too securely.