I discovered working with tea, really by accident. I spilled the tea on a drawing. I look at them and I read them like somebody would read coffee beans. I drink this beautiful Chinese puer tea, the element of slowing down. The tea allows it to breeze to more. The whole thing starts with big splashes of tea. It's like some empty space inside the mountain. I start with the pen and then I look at the markings. It's almost like a little Oracle. I'm not drawing it to be hall-laden and be out of this world. I just allow myself a little space, a little moment. There is no attempt to be original. Originality is totally relevant. If they look like something else, why not? There is some deep internal intelligence, some almost nonverbal narrative, which nourishes us, which has its own natural wellspring. So this drawing is trying to touch the rim of that. You