The work often begins without a plan, just the medium and me,

in quiet dialogue. It unfolds in its own rhythm: slow starts and sudden arrivals. I’m still learning to follow its lead.

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Each series comes to tell me something, to explain me to myself.

After years of making, I can begin to see the body of it. Some parts feel pliable, softened by memory; others carry the weight of heavier truths. There are folds and cracks where stories have settled and

edges defined by transformation and resilience.

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My work lives at the intersection of quirky and contemplative—figurative forms that borrow from the past while being distinctly modern. Themes of secrecy, grief, perseverance, and triumph
return again and again, striking a delicate balance between strength
and fragility.