The second series, in collaboration with my identical twin, LeeLee Brazeal

My drive home runs alongside a railway, where freight trains sit like a moving wall of paintings. The boxcars are tagged and scarred by riders and writers I will never meet. I started watching them, then painting them. Each piece is built like the side of a train, a grid of panels with every surface scrawled over by another. The marks are LeeLee's hand and mine, but they are also a tribute to those anonymous painters whose work I glimpse for a few seconds at a crossing and never see again.

Working on LeeLee's discarded surfaces felt right, because graffiti is collaborative by nature. One artist paints, another paints over, and nothing stays untouched. Two hands, multiple languages, no clean ownership. In the end this series is about looking. It is about the things we see briefly and let go, and the way that, if you pay attention on your drive home, the world keeps handing you a painting.