Working across paper, clay, wood and metal, I begin with a simple action - a tear, a drilled hole, an ink wash - each gesture informing the next. This approach requires close attention and a willingness to let go of expectation, trusting that something unforeseen will emerge.

Through my repetitive processes, surfaces evolve into shifting fields where absence becomes as active as material, and light changes the work 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.

I gravitate to patterns and phenomena that signify time passing: light dancing across the water, 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.