This painting existed in my head for more than six months before I finally began working on it.

I kept postponing it because I wanted to make it at a larger scale, in a studio large enough to hold it.

I've noticed something about myself over the years. Once an idea becomes a painting, I lose interest in it surprisingly quickly. Perhaps that is why I waited.

By the time I finally started painting, my work had already changed. My recent paintings had become quieter and more restrained, while this image belonged to an earlier way of thinking.

In a strange way, I was collaborating with a version of myself from six months before.

That distance made this painting unexpectedly difficult to finish.

When it was finally complete, I realized it was no longer simply an image of an explosion. What interested me was the way the boundaries between colors began to establish independent forms. Rather than describing an event, the painting became an arrangement of autonomous planes, each existing on its own while defining the space around it.