The phrase "my work" causes me to feel a certain caution ... it's not as if I conjure it from some absolutely private place, mold it alone/aloof from everything else out there, from others, from the temper of the times .... I approach ideas through images, not with them ... the image is the beginning point. The process is a sort of dialogue, an argument; usually motivated by revolt or despair. The human condition, what else is new .... But primarily I have always been motivated by the desire for pleasure; pleasure both abstract and cathartic. The cathartic in the making of austerely beautiful imagery and in so doing trying to communicate the melancholia, the sense of transience and pathos, which such "beauty," for me, evokes .... The abstract pleasure is in discovering the ironic harmonies, dissonant rhymings and simply the weird wit and intelligence in the juxtaposition of "things"; texts, sounds and images .... The relationship in displacement; the sensibility of ambiguity, which always seems, or is, a more revealing and irresistible truth about the world than blunt, blank, fact.