I normally work in series. I like to be able to return to my subject matters, to infuse them with
familiarity. It alleviates the anxiety that comes with painting. The fear of exposure. It removes the feeling that things are finished or done with, or that I only have one single shot. It gives me time to think through. It is an opportunity to look at the subject matter from different angles; it adds openness and ambiguity. I get bored and distracted very easily. I’m also busy caring for my family and home, so I’ve had to learn how to work under the pressure of being constantly interrupted. I must be quick, so I often prepare six or seven canvases at the same time. I incorporate the fragmentation of my daily experience into the way I work.
My paintings are an ode to domestic life. Despite often using bright colours, I am drawn to the darkness of the mundane. My domestic scenes are always on the brink of collapse. The female figure is often holding things by a thread. The images are engulfed in claustrophobia, bliss, meditation, resignation, connection and ambivalence. I am always looking for those corners of the room that the broom cannot reach. The texture of a sponge against my hands while I do the dishes. A child crying. A child laughing. The noise of a broken appliance. The smell of fresh bread. As if the everyday only existed to become painting.