I don't paint to explain myself. I paint because something — a light, a body, a silence, a conversation, a piece of fruit — got under my skin and demanded a response that words would only ruin. 

What ends up on the canvas isn't a message. It's a residue. A tuning fork left on a table. 

If something I made stops you — even for three seconds — don't look for me in it, my work is not a map for reversed engineering. 
Look for whatever just moved inside you. That's yours. That's what this is for. 

I came to painting late, through discipline, through failure, through a long and sometimes brutal education in paying attention. The figurative work taught me to see. The abstract work is where I finally allow myself to not know what I am saying until it is already said. 

I'm not interested in decorating your wall. I'm interested in the unlikely chance that something I made in solitude finds an unexpected room in you — and opens a door you didn't know was there. 

That's the whole ambition. It's enough. 

My Shop is open. I do not take commissions.

mongraffito@outlook.com