Working on the parallel tracks of still life and landscape, I am captivated by the mysterious drama of light and dark. Raised in Southern California, I played in suburban yards with sun-carved zones of dazzling brights and cool depths. Indoors, I was transfixed by the film noir classics that were staples of 1950s television.

Painted in and around my garden in the Catskills, the landscapes distill the northern light and moisture-laden air of the Schoharie valley into images that combine memories of my California childhood with the strange foreboding I feel in the northeastern countryside. The still lifes are painted in my Long Island City studio. A kind of cabinet of curiosities, it is filled with natural history items, cultural artifacts, bins of fabric and kitschy detritus. I often use spot lights to create the same slashing areas of light and dark that I search for in the landscape. The intersection of these two paths lies in the perceptual and emotional appropriation of light: I hope that the precision of tone creates the vivid reality of a dream.