I started these drawings because my son was born and I wanted to make work downstairs. I mean paint fumes just wouldn't do. So I went back to the basics, pencil and paper, and I started to draw. What I didn't expect is that the drawings would circle back to such representational imagery. Maybe it's the muscle memory of 10,000 adolescent hours spent drawing? But what I happily discovered is that by using the figure I was able to talk about a much larger range of subjects.

These drawings are about my life, my memories, my screwy psychology. I don't plan them out. There is no order. Even when I start the drawings I have just the faintest wisp of an idea, like wanting to draw a puff of smoke, or a huge baby, some lions or a face. In the beginning I try to hold the drawings loosely, and as they go, they start to assert themselves. The drawings tell me what they want to be. The hardest part is not to filter. I have to trust that every stupid, off-beat, taboo idea bubbled up for a reason. I think that it's healthier for the drawings (and definitely therapeutic for me) to let it all out on the page. In the past they have called this inner voice, the muse, the subconscious, or the lizard brain. It's all the same thing, trusting that little goblin in my head.

I'm usually surprised at the end of the drawing. I swear I didn't know that Colossus was going to be about Goya, that the lady in Byzantine would have that other mouth, that the figures in the back of Easter Island would be bearing axes. The drawings asked to be like that. It's only later that I realize that I am making a drawing about my life, about having a baby, about thinking about having more, about love, fear, weight, empathy, and cynicism. If you look at all the drawings together it would be a map of my brain, like the way that Hockney composited those photographs to create one image. These works are the last 12 months inside my head.

Since the subjects are so personal, I have been agonizing over the images. The alternative would be to make more expressive drawings, ie. violent arm movements as a symbol of my aggression. But, expressionism has a trade-off in that subject matter is often subjugated to touch. Because I'm drawing my son, my wife, me, my friends, my memories, my brain, I haven't been able to sacrifice them to a looser hand. And I like it. I enjoy the challenge of waves, rocks, mist, smoke, and flesh.

I have had a blast making these drawings. I used almost no source material. I made up the figures, the rocks, the smoke, the fire, the clouds, the sky, the waves, the hair. I had to look up lion anatomy and some women's shoes, but the rest is invented. Drawing from my brain lets every detail serve the composition. Light bends, perspective warps, figurative proportion distorts. Since I'm inventing it all, it's mine to play with.