"I like the way the paint gets put on, and the layers. Little secrets hidden in the paint. Not everyone knows they’re there, but I do. 

I find that interesting." 

"Doing lots of layers happens naturally: I might really want to paint today, but I draw something and it’s bad. So I paint over it. Or the positioning isn’t right, so I start again.

That’s just part of it. It exists because sometimes I didn’t have the energy to change it in the moment. I leave it to breathe and come back.  I just like to leave the painting in a good space: it's like a good ending of memory type of thing.

Then it changes because I’ve had time for my back brain (subconscious) to process it. Things shift anyway."

"I also think it shows up with certain paints - like if I’m using acrylic. I like things to be a bit tacky, so sometimes it’s good if something’s slightly open from the day before, because it gets that tackiness.

I’ll take a matchstick and put it in a bit of black acrylic. I like it when it gets tacky so I can use it as a 'painting crayon' for quick line stuff.

If I wasn’t disabled, I might be too impatient waiting for that: it might change the process. My process has built itself around being this way, and it actually works best for me."

"I find that question difficult because I haven’t really put it into word form.

It’s funny because if I did put it into words, it would sound like “Oh I couldn’t move, so this is about this…” and it would all sound so sad. But that’s not how I even think about it.

I think I’m trying to share what it feels like without trying to share what it feels like - it just kind of happens".

"When I paint, I’m not trying to make a statement about identity. I don’t decide to make “disabled art” or “feminist art,” it just happens because I am those things".

"And yes, my life on paper sounds really depressing: that’s the truth, but it can also be fun. I get to paint on things".