There is a point in a working session when the colours begin to collect on my gloves. A smear crosses the palm. Paint gathers in the folds and dries around the fingertips. Looking down, I can see traces of the work beyond the surface I am painting.

The photograph holds something I value about the studio: the closeness of the body to the material. Painting involves handling tools, moving things aside and returning to the surface. Colour travels through those ordinary actions. The gloves carry marks I never composed, yet they retain the texture of the session.

I find these traces worth noticing. They bring me back to the physical labour within the work, to the contact and repeated movement that a finished painting may no longer disclose. For a moment, my hands hold another record of what has happened.