There is a kind of work that begins only after one has finished doing anything. The studio after a long working session is not empty; it is full of things that are still happening — pigment migrating into linen, varnish setting, a draft of paper continuing to curl in the heat from the radiator.
I have come to think of these slow, autonomous events as the most interesting collaborators in my practice. They proceed without me, on their own schedules, and often arrive at conclusions I would not have authorised.
The discipline, then, is not how to act, but how to be present without intervening. To watch the surface decide what it wants to become.