Q: Growing up surrounded by modern art and your father’s studio must have been inspiring. How did those early experiences shape your own approach to abstract painting?

A: I absorbed some of the visual language of abstraction at an early age and without trying. It seeped in naturally, the way verbal language does. Early on, the idea that you could make something meaningful just by arranging shapes, colors, textures, etc., seemed perfectly normal. Seeing my dad at work in his studio and having abstract paintings in our home also gave me a sense that art was something that mattered - a worthwhile pursuit.

Q: Your work places colour at the forefront. What draws you to experiment with translucent colour and bold edges, and how do you decide on the palette for a piece?

A: Two of my earliest influences were Rothko and Diebenkorn. Both artists employed layering of translucent color. I was drawn to the idea of painting in a way that revealed where the artist had changed course. As a viewer, you could see the artist's thought process.

I went through a period of using collage in paintings and I found that I liked the crisp feel of shapes made with scissors. When I began painting hard-edged shapes later on, it felt like I was reconnecting with those forms that had sharp, definitive edges.

My color decisions are very intuitive, but I'm often trying to make colors act on each other. If they all just sit there minding their own business, it's no good.

Q: You’ve mentioned that movement is a recurring theme in your paintings. How do you translate the dynamic nature of motion, both physical and musical, into a static medium like painting?

A: It's interesting that movement and music take place in time, whereas a painting is static, as you say. But, you can't really see all of a painting at once, so time still enters into it. A line tends to move a viewer's eye along its length, so there's movement there. Forms in my work may seem to drift, ricochet, jostle, or reach out to connect. Positive and negative spaces can be analogous to sound and interval in music. Just as music has always led to dance, the forms and intervals of a painting can create a rhythmic pulse suggesting motion.

Q: Improvisation seems to play a key role in your process. How do you balance spontaneity with intention when constructing your compositions?

A: I tend to trust my intuition more than my ability to work from intention, but both play a part. There's a lot of trying something, changing it, then changing it again. Sometimes it feels like a piece is really coming together and then I walk in to the studio the next day it looks lousy. Sometimes the wrong turns lead somewhere more interesting.

Q: Your background includes an MFA, as well as numerous juried exhibitions. How have these experiences shaped your perspective as an artist, both technically and professionally?

A: Occasionally in art school, a teacher would drop a line that I took to heart, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. One time, a professor told me "When you paint a shape you have to really feel it." I said, "Okay, how do I do that?" She couldn't really explain it. It's subtle. Her comment stuck with me for years and it seems to me that you don't know how until you do it. Then you think, "Ah, that's how!". Art school helped solidify in my mind the idea that making art would be a lifetime pursuit.

Q: What advice would you give to young artists exploring abstract art, particularly when it comes to trusting their instincts and finding their unique visual language?

A: I would urge them to make art selfishly. Don't create work for an imagined audience. Make the stuff you want to see and keep at it. I'm certain it's the best way to communicate with viewers and at the very least, you'll come to know yourself more deeply.