Each canvas and paper in front of me present itself as a door, not a surface to be filled but a threshold to be entered.

Painting in “portrait mode” is not an artistic option, but a calling, an invitation to the vast living emptiness.

With the tip of my brush I gently push this door open and let the silence between two brushstrokes speak.

I am the hand that holds the brush
up in the midair above the paper.
I am the breath that gently blows over.
The brush is holding its dripping ink
as I’m holding my breath
in the silence from between the heartbeats.
I am the heart.
I am the brush.
I am the heart of the brush.

 If you feel called to support the quiet rhythm of this work, you may do so