My art practice is concept-driven, materially curious, and deeply personal. Three inseparable forces shape everything I make: the idea, the physical act of creation, and the material itself. Each feeds the others in a constant dialogue that grounds and propels my work.
I tend to work in themes—distortion, repetition, memory, and lived experience—returning to them over years as they evolve. For a concept to take hold, it must move me emotionally and intellectually; only then can I commit to the long-term exploration it demands. With each new idea comes a chance to refine technique, learn new processes, and test the limits of unfamiliar materials. I impose constraints—of scale, subject, or material—as a creative strategy, using limitations to uncover possibility.
Material is never just a medium; it’s a collaborator. Discovering its unique voice and aligning it with my intent is one of the most rewarding parts of my process.
I believe the impulse to create is rooted in our awareness of impermanence. Art is an attempt to make sense of our fleeting time—to reach beyond the moment and say, I was here. My work holds this duality: it embraces the fragile, the temporal, while reaching toward something more lasting, more noble. As Robert Browning wrote in Paracelsus, “God is the perfect poet, / who in his person acts his own creations.”