I started making art when I was about twelve, trading sketchbooks with friends on weekend nights. We drew in one another’s pages, passed them around, and made something together. It wasn’t about being better or worse. It was about making a mark and discovering that someone else could see themselves in it.
I still think about art that way.
When I draw or paint, I try not to control everything that happens. I often work without erasing, letting unexpected marks become part of the process. A mistake can become information. An accident can open a direction I never intended to explore.
I’m drawn to intense detail because it gives the eye somewhere to wander. Lines, patterns, faces, letters, and forms create little worlds to explore. I like when something isn’t immediately understood, when looking becomes an act of curiosity and discovery.
For me, looking is part of making. The viewer brings something to the work that I couldn’t make on my own.
Sometimes I make art to connect. Sometimes I make art to listen. And sometimes I make art simply to remember that I am alive.
