There isn’t a system.
There is an eclectic crash of influences.
I find it hard to explain. When I’m there it is clear and I have no time to question it!. When I question it, it feels like when you are having the most amazing dream and you are waken up, then it is awfully difficult to get back to that dream no matter how hard you try to sleep back into it. How much you try to remember it. You will sleep again. But you will not be there anymore.
So I stopped questioning my automatic process and started questioning the outcome. Try and remember the traces. The path that I followed from beginning to end. Look at the multitude of marks and pick the odd ones out. Some of the marks are violent, some fragile, some impulsive, some have been covered up and sacrificed for the greater good. As I apply paint to board, I feel like the colors are alive, like they look at me and give me clues, clues of which other color they want to be with.
It takes me about three days to finish a piece. It takes me just as long to imagine, to fully observe and remember the routs that I took and choices that I made.
