Artist Statement

My work begins with what gets left behind. Paintings, prints, and photographs built from the objects people I love have handled, the light that surrounded them, the space their body would fill. What I'm after is not the event but what it leaves behind: the feeling that outlasts the facts, the image that arrives already changed by the distance it traveled to reach you.

Film photography taught me to trust that distortion. The frame fixes a moment and corrupts it at the same time: double registration, two scenes occupying the same surface, neither one complete. That's closer to how things are actually remembered than any faithful record could be. The graphic planes interrupting my painted surfaces work the same way: flat fields of color, blown-out zones of light, rectangles that cut across a scene. They are records of how perception fractures over time and trauma (physical and metaphysical) and of the slow work of reassembly, pixelating a feeling back together, trying to belong to a memory again.

I am still learning what it means to belong fully to my own life. This is what that looks like. I want to show you. I want to show me.