My studio is housed in an eccentric industrial building on the Eastside of Los Angeles. I work in a corner unit that has two perpendicular walls of windows that fill the studio with light. Throughout the day, the changing light reflects off my paintings. I sit with the paintings for long periods of time, incrementally adjusting them as the light changes. Since I started working this way, I have developed a surface that exploits the flat reflectivity of metallic paint and velvety matte areas that can be constructed only through many thin layers. Moments might seem chalky, flat, or dispersed, referential, illusionistic, or matter of fact, all within a very narrow register. I follow an improvisational process, using only oil paint and linseed oil, and the composition emerges as if I were weaving. I am finished when the surface feels uncanny, and when the image reads quickly, as if it were a photograph: an index of process. When one chooses to spend time with the works, their more complicated method of construction becomes evident.