I believe that finite moments of contact—even a single, well-considered gesture—can generate an infinite number of visually compelling forms. Hence, you'll see that, no matter what medium in which I am working, there is usually a very simple gesture or design structure at its core. Sometimes I multiply that gesture until I feel it reaches a sense of critical mass, a 'tipping point' (as in my computer-aided paintings like the 10-Second Experiments and Moving Forms animations). Sometimes I isolate the gesture and present it in aggregate (as in my Exercises and other videos); sometimes I freeze the gesture and present it in series (my photographic documents of Light Forms); and sometimes, behind the scenes, I fuse my limited-time contact with materials and surface into a poetic whole (as in my minimalist paintings in acrylic on plywood). No matter the approach or medium, my process or materials, however, you'll notice that what I'm after is a gentle irreducibility; a place where a work of art is no more than what it seems to be—and yet, is more than the sum of its parts.
I like to work with what I have at hand—"at hand" often implying materials readily available in a hardware store: flash lights and other hand-held fixtures; acrylic house paint and plywood; a computer illustration tool distributed for free over the Internet; and, of course, the simple equation of myself, and my camera, and my tripod alone in a room. I generally limit my initial contact with my chosen materials to a finite period of time—sometimes as short as a few seconds—and let either chance or a later editing process take over. Let me add that "Play" and the embrace of the random is also such a key element in my work that I feel compelled to list it as a material.