My practice begins with a simple premise: that images think.
Drawing, painting, and collage are not representations but sites where perception, memory, and matter meet in ways that language alone cannot hold. I treat each work as a living diagram — a field where materials negotiate with intuition, where fragments of text become anchors or disturbances, and where forms emerge through slow accumulations rather than fixed intentions.
Working with gouache, found paper, and discarded or repurposed materials, I build surfaces that behave like open systems. These fragments — once part of other worlds — carry their own histories of use, rupture, and circulation. When brought together, they form an ecology of becoming, where the overlooked gains new agency and where meaning arises from encounters rather than design. This provisional, adaptive quality is central to my approach: I am drawn to the moment where clarity and opacity touch, where understanding feels both unstable and deeply embodied.
The page often functions as a cartographic space. It is a place where diagrams blur into figures, where narratives remain hesitant, where the archive and the imagination cross. My background in librarianship inflects this process: arranging, ordering, and reordering become aesthetic acts, and the archive becomes a porous terrain where matter and thought circulate without hierarchy.
Across drawings, paintings, and artist books, I return to the same central question:
How does an artwork create knowledge — not as explanation, but as an experience of attention, connection, and permeability?
How does an artwork create knowledge — not as explanation, but as an experience of attention, connection, and permeability?
In my practice, thinking happens through touch, through layers, through the quiet choreography of materials. What emerges is not a final statement, but a constellation — a sensitive ontology that expands with each encounter.