My work is grounded in a lifelong attention to the elemental forces that shape both the world and the self: water, earth, fire, wind, ether, and wood. These are not symbols to be illustrated, but conditions of being. I am interested in how presence is marked, how living beings, human and animal alike, register their relationship to a place through repetition, gesture, and trace.

I work across painting, sculpture, photography, and printmaking, often combining materials such as beeswax, resin, graphite, oil stick, metal leaf, stone, textiles, found objects, and handmade papers. These materials are chosen not for effect but for their capacity to hold time. Wax, in particular, allows layers to be built, erased, fused, and scarred, preserving the history of decisions within the surface itself. What emerges is not an image imposed on matter, but a form negotiated through attention and restraint.

Mark-making is central to my practice. When a gesture is repeated long enough, intention loosens and something else takes over. The hand continues while the mind recedes. In that state, energy and order concentrate, and the work begins to organize itself. For me, making art is an ongoing practice of getting out of the way, of learning how to see and then move beyond what is already known.

Repetition plays a crucial role. I have returned repeatedly to primal forms—lines, circles, spirals, grids—not as decoration, but as a way of thinking through pattern and duration. A sustained engagement with the symbolic number 108, drawn from Eastern philosophy and lived experience, shaped my work for many years, not as doctrine but as discipline. Over time, that structure gave way to a renewed focus on horizontal and vertical lines, horizons and axes, flow and instability. Landscapes began to appear, not as places to be depicted, but as fields of balance and disruption.

Travel and lived experience continue to inform the work, particularly encounters with sites of ritual, gathering, and metaphysical significance. These influences surface indirectly, through material choices and compositional structures rather than narrative reference. My work does not seek resolution. It holds tension. Between accumulation and erasure. Between order and collapse. Between endurance and vulnerability.

Each piece represents a moment of alignment between material, gesture, and attention. When that dialogue is complete, the work must be released. It no longer belongs to me. If it carries any power, it is because it remains open, capable of meeting others where they are. The self that shaped it has already moved on.