My work is driven by the movement of color — its weight, texture, and how it behaves across the surface. I spill myself into the paint mass, letting the material guide me. There are moments when the medium takes over, when colors bleed into one another, when layers break down and edges blur. These moments are unpredictable and chaotic, and it’s in these moments that I find freedom. The paint becomes its own force: it resists, dissolves, and shapes itself in ways I don’t want to control.

I work primarily with oil, drawn to its depth and complexity. I embrace its ability to shift, to surprise. There’s something thrilling about allowing the paint to go its own way, to create textures and forms that evolve in front of my eyes, to watch as the boundaries between colors become porous and merge unexpectedly. This process feels organic and alive, like a dialogue between myself and the material.

Yet within this chaos, there is a search. Shapes my eyes used to know and yearns to remember, familiar places I’ve never been to, existence that cannot be.

While I aim to create a space where the viewer can linger — a place where they can immerse themselves in the textures, colors, and forms — I also want to challenge the conventional need for immediate understanding. I seek to disrupt the cognitive mechanisms that quickly try to make sense of what they see, urging the viewer to confront the inert ambiguity within the work. It is in this space of uncertainty that the complexity of perception comes alive. The work does not offer easy answers; it invites the viewer to embrace the unresolved, the fragmented, and the uncertain.

My process is not about precision or representation. It’s about the freedom of letting the medium unfold on its own terms. Each painting becomes a record of this ongoing search — where structure meets collapse, intention meets accident, and form emerges not from rigid decisions, but from allowing the material to evolve and shape itself in ways I couldn’t have predicted.