I start painting by donning a hazmat suit with a hood connected by hose to a fresh air supply, like an old bell diver. I lay the support flat and mix a two-part epoxy resin. After I add pigments to the resin mixture, I gradually heat it up before it solidifies. Although each painting is carefully planned, my best intentions are thwarted by the chaos created by the resin. Every painting is an alchemical experiment that cannot be reproduced, and yields many surprises, good and bad, when hung the next day. Temperature and time before pouring are the most important determinants of the look of the painting. I use Dixie cups, syringes, and needles to apply the resin. My struggle with the resin is captured when pigments are frozen in the flowing resin, like a fly in amber. Close inspection of the painting surface reveals that the representational image is made up of a microscopic world of eddies and whirls of paint trapped in resin, imparting a sense of arrested motion.