When I started painting in 2006, I began by painting abstracted versions of simple motifs: mountains, skyscrapers, a horizon line with a sun somewhere. People who saw these paintings would see what I’d intended them to see – but, to my surprise, they were far more interested in other details of the paintings – more subtle lines and blurred colors that to them suggested something else entirely, complicated images like faces or flowers that I’d not intended to be there. This was interesting to me, and I began to find people’s reactions to my paintings just as enjoyable as making them in the first place. I soon discarded my attempts to intend or suggest anything at all, and embraced the idea of composing entirely abstract images. Curiously, much more meaning would be projected onto these pure abstractions than on my previous attempts at realism.

The first artist to really blow my mind was Turner. I remember my mother taking me to New York City when I was young and showing me his sea and cloud scenes. I was mesmerized by the depth of his blurred colors, by the simultaneous energy and calm of his paintings. A few years later, I found myself alternating between the frenzy of Jackson Pollock and the soothing intensity of Mark Rothko. After I had begun to define my own style, a friend in Germany suggested that my work reminded him of the abstractions of Gerhard Richter, who is now a great influence and inspiration.

I first came across the concept of pareidolia when I was studying philosophy in graduate school. Viewers of my work told me that they ‘saw things’ in my paintings that I had never intended to be there: faces, bodies, mountains, rain. Over time, I began to understand how my blurring technique could be used to suggest, but never define, organic shapes. My paintings were functioning something like colorful Rorschach tests. My goal is to create imaginary spaces whose meanings are defined as much by the viewer as by myself. I want to create beautiful things that connote something personal for my audiences.

I actually sold a painting during that first show at a coffee shop in Boston. When I met the buyer, he told me that he had just gotten married and the painting was going to go in his and his wife’s new living room. This just felt incredibly special to me, that something I had made was going to be part of these people’s new life.

I usually start 2 pieces but focus on one piece while doing the background color on the other. I need to finish a piece in one sitting because my technique requires me to work while all the top colors are still wet. So I’ll do one piece while preparing the canvas or panel for the next.

The inspiration is usually just the colors themselves. I only use the primary colors and occasionally white, so what happens on the canvas is a result of how much color theory went into its creation. Recently, I’ve been working on a series in which each new painting is inspired by a detail of the last; if something cool happens in the corner of one painting, then I’ll explore those colors by making that juxtaposition/blurring the focal point of my next piece.

I grew up in a suburb of New York City before going to college in Boston. I moved to Chicago to pursue a PhD in philosophy, and left that program after four years to focus on my art. I just realized that I’d rather express myself visually than verbally. Aside from art, I’m also studying acting and have been performing in small shows for the past year or so. I live on the far north side of the city with two friends and two cats.