I grew up with a certain innocence—a belief in my teachers, in the values, ethics and morals I was taught, and in the fundamental goodness of people. The gospel truth meant something. Truth was something we could recognize and share.

In this painting, fragments of language overlap, interrupt and obscure one another. Marks invite us to read, yet resist understanding—offering the promise of meaning without resolution.

The painting grew out of the reality that truth itself has become fractured—repeated, manipulated and contested until the boundaries between what we know, believe, and are told begin to dissolve.

When language can no longer be trusted, where does truth reside?