Watching my son being born, the strangest most unexpected reality was the umbilical cord.  I had read books, seen pictures, was relatively primed for the event, but the cord refused me any degree of complacent acceptance of the normality of this situation.  The cord was like an industrial piece of hardware, a ribbed, translucent, polyurethane masterpiece.  I had no idea she was equipped to produce this sort of thing, I assume she didn’t know either otherwise I’m sure she would have mentioned it. I sensed it was an inappropriate time to question her on the subject. As I stood and marvelled the thought occurred, maybe I had made it or at least had slipped her the blueprints without realising it.  On this day, a marked point in my consciousness was established, a poignant reminder that I know so little of this vehicle I travel in, so little of this place I was born into, so little and yet in complete ignorance I am able to somehow create such profound complexity without even trying.  What a remarkable fellow I am!

One may be straining to link the significance of this account with the act of making paintings. For me the link is clear in a woolly unstable sort of way. The most interesting, the most magical moments experienced while engaged in the act of painting are still a mystery to me.

Occasionally I achieve a logic and a clarity that unlock the enigmas that plague my studio life. I write these down, formulate systems of cause and effect, evaluate and create sequences that guarantee success and analyse and identify the key elements that distinguish good from bad painting.  Over the past six years I have made a number of railway station paintings, but there has been something wrong with each one of them. The one I am currently working on is to be the most successful of the lot. It takes all the best bits of previous paintings; it omits the mistakes of the past and exploits these six years of research and experience. The problem is, this current painting is really boring and it’s a mess and I honestly do not know why.

When I am explaining something really important to Anna (my wife) and my explanation drags on a bit she may ask with impatience, “what’s your point?” I ask you (the reader) how can I possibly know what my point is when I am still at the preliminary stages of my explanation?