I paint the parts of a place that stay

I grew up between [place] and [place], which probably explains why my work keeps returning to horizons — the moment a landscape stops being scenery and becomes a colour you can hold. I've been painting full time since [year], and in Montreal since [year].

Most of what I do is subtraction. I build a painting up in thin layers over weeks, then take colour out of it — scraping back to the linen, letting the weave show through — until what's left feels like light rather than paint. The painting is finished when there's nothing left to take away.

A painting should feel like a room you can walk into, not a picture of one.

I work on several pieces at once and let each one sit for a while before deciding whether it's done. That waiting is most of the job. The gouache studies are the exception — small, fast, one sitting each — and they feed the oil paintings more than the other way round.

Alongside the paintings I take on a small number of licensing projects each year, and I teach [subject] occasionally at [institution].