Growing up in Pennsylvania's Amish Country, I became familiar with landscapes so unadorned as to be vacuums, as well as a certain built blankness: Amish windows do not have curtains or shutters, and Amish dolls do not have faces. An early equation between rigorous spiritual practice and a lack of adornment carried forward into my work. I consider my painting to be contemplative in nature but never comforting. In recent years, my work has moved from Francis Bacon-like torture to George Bailey-like composure and Platonism. I try to imbue my works with equal parts worried comedy and icy detachment, and to paint a universe in which the Divine light is a thousand fluorescent, unflattering bulbs.
