Heaven’s Cradle with Handles 

You wake up, and the dream you had seems still so real —on top of your tongue. The logic of a dream is so satisfying in the thick of it, with any otherworldly images vividly detailed, and yet once you try to recount or describe it, it dissipates before your mind’s eye — the images fade, the spaces, the sequence of events, the characters suddenly lose all coherence. In my paintings I am looking for that spot before the retelling of the dream kills it, and the only words that remain and feel right are the ones that come as the names for the paintings.