Last year I showed some work to a friend, who commented “Oh, that’s just advanced doodling.” Her comment surprised me, since that’s not how I see my process. I made a faint defense: “Well, they are abstract comics…” To which she responded: “Yeah, I make doodles. Lot’s of people make doodles.” I didn’t argue, because she wasn’t wrong…

From my perspective though, what I am doing is taking something random (random colors, brush strokes, lines) and working that randomness into something detailed and cohesive, a story of sorts. I work intuitively, with no plan, idea, or specific thing to express. I enjoy the surprise of an unknown outcome. It’s not unlike doodling (maybe that is doodling?), but the implication is that doodling is a “mindless” activity, and “mindless” in this context implies a lack of attention, whereas intuition or spontaneity is a different kind of attention.

I resist the urge to define what I do as anything in particular. Is it “doodles”? Is it “art”? Is it “comics”? Who cares? To me it just IS. I choose to call them “comics” because of the layout, the linework, and the “story” (and because I like to make zines), but I don’t know if they truly fit that definition. What I do know is that a lot of people can’t stand the idea of something just “being”, without a specific purpose or meaning that can be quantified (usually in a monetary, or sacrificial way).

Once I finish a piece, it becomes something like a recording of a conversation, or a narrative of events. The conversation I was having has ended, and now it’s layered on top of itself as if it’s happening all at once, like a collapse of time. A new conversation begins when someone views the work.

This is a conversation that takes place within the viewer, and that is none of my business.