"My attitude towards drawing is not necessarily about drawing. It's about making the best kind of image I can make, it's about talking as clearly as I can"

Drawing becomes a vehicle rather than a destination. The medium is valuable, but only insofar as it serves a larger aim: to craft an image that carries weight, urgency, and presence. Technique is not dismissed; it is repurposed, subordinated to intention. The hand’s skill matters, but not as a performance of virtuosity. The true test lies in whether the image communicates, whether it embodies an idea or feeling with fidelity. That shift reframes authorship from a maker of drawings to a maker of meaning, where the line, tone, and surface act like verbs and nouns in a sentence.

To “make the best kind of image” implies rigor without rigid rules: a constant negotiation between form and content, refinement and risk. It invites revision, failure, and discovery, since the “best” arises through testing edges, scraping out, adding back in. The artist’s responsibility is clarity, clarity of thought, of emotion, of structure. Clarity is not simplification; it is concentration. It strips away mannerism, removes the noise of showing off, and leaves what is necessary for the viewer to feel and understand.

“Talking as clearly as I can” frames drawing as speech, a dialogue with the viewer and with materials. The line becomes a voice: sometimes stuttering, sometimes emphatic, occasionally whispering. Materials, charcoal, graphite, ink, each have an accent, and choosing among them becomes a rhetorical decision. This approach honors the viewer’s intelligence; it presumes that the audience can meet the work halfway if the artist does not hide behind obscurity. Such clarity is an ethical stance as much as an aesthetic one. It asks for honesty of process and presence of mind. The marks should carry the maker’s full attention and be accountable to the feeling they claim to represent. In that sense, drawing is thinking made visible, a form of speech that convinces not through argument alone but through the rightness of its marks, the coherence of its structure, and the candor of its voice.