My work begins with a simple action - a tear, a drilled hole, an ink wash. As the image unfolds, each gesture suggests the next. This approach requires close attention and a willingness to let go of expectation, trusting that something unforeseen will emerge.

I gravitate to patterns and phenomena that signify time passing: light dancing across the water, shadows that transform a surface, coastlines worn by the surf, moss growing in the cracks of stone. These experiences are not translated into representational images but they do shape the way I see, and in turn, the way I make.

Working across paper, clay, wood and metal, I return to the same recurring actions: accumulating, removing, perforating and eroding. Through repetition, surfaces evolve into shifting fields where absence becomes as active as material, and light changes the as much as the marks themselves. There's a quiet equilibrium that I am chasing - a kind of stillness that holds tension, like holding two opposing forces at once, the moment when something feels like it could either fall apart or hold together.