When someone looks at one of my drawings, I do not want to be the one who forces an image or a thought into their mind. I want my drawing to be the raw material which the viewer uses to create their own image of the subject.

We live in a time in which our daily lives suffer under a deluge of meaningless images, where advertisers devise countless tricks for creating images which force specific, unwanted thoughts into our minds, and where the economy of mass production cheapens the victories of individual human achievement to the point of cliché, kitsch and consumer goods.

At first glance the viewer may or may not see the subject of my drawing. This is less a function of choice than of chance: the images resemble to a certain extent the familiar Rorschach ink-blots, and depending upon the viewer's state of mind at the moment of first viewing they may see something which arises from an active imagination rather than my artistic intention. (For example, a friend of mine, upon looking at a drawing of a man suffering during the apocalypse, commented: "I think I see a garden gnome"). But this is good! Before the viewer lies the task of assembling the black ink on the page into an image in their mind which may or may not be similar to the image I used as the subject for the drawing. In this way I do not tell the viewer what to think; rather, I invite her to study the lines and let her imagination conjure an image out of her referential, observational or emotional reaction to the drawing.