Monotypes with paint are like poems. Intimate, intuitive, surprising. Rather than controlling the paint, one applies it to a surface quickly, loosely, and lays a sheet of paper on it to obscure it. Pressing the paper pushes the pigment in ways that are often unpredictable. I live for those surprises. That moment when you peel off the paper to find your image, and it is beautifully imperfect. And therefore, very human.