Artist Statement
Surreal Works
I am obsessed with creating strangeness and calm through unexpected arrangements of familiar objects. I create ambiguous narratives that feel as though they might belong to a memory—although perhaps not one that ever happened.
I am continually drawn to old structures, the ingenuity of birds building nests, late afternoon light, and the subtlety of cool and warm ambient spaces. Beneath it all is the persistent feeling that time is moving faster than I can follow. I am less interested in explaining the presence of these elements than in discovering the friction created when they coexist.
I am obsessed with creating strangeness and calm through unexpected arrangements of familiar objects. I create ambiguous narratives that feel as though they might belong to a memory—although perhaps not one that ever happened.
I am continually drawn to old structures, the ingenuity of birds building nests, late afternoon light, and the subtlety of cool and warm ambient spaces. Beneath it all is the persistent feeling that time is moving faster than I can follow. I am less interested in explaining the presence of these elements than in discovering the friction created when they coexist.
Landscape Works
I am drawn to the way a landscape can suddenly reveal itself—the weight of trees, the placement of an old house, the geometry of roads and telephone poles, and the spaces that form between them. I try to remain faithful to what I find, allowing the character of the setting to guide the painting.
Often, it is a peculiar slant of light that makes me stop. It glazes unevenly across the scene, bathing some areas while others barely catch it. For a brief moment, a place I may have passed countless times feels entirely new.
There is a quietness in these moments that I want to hold onto. At times they feel strangely familiar, as though recalling something I cannot quite place. My landscape paintings are an attempt to stay within that fleeting experience—to look a little longer before the light moves on.
I am drawn to the way a landscape can suddenly reveal itself—the weight of trees, the placement of an old house, the geometry of roads and telephone poles, and the spaces that form between them. I try to remain faithful to what I find, allowing the character of the setting to guide the painting.
Often, it is a peculiar slant of light that makes me stop. It glazes unevenly across the scene, bathing some areas while others barely catch it. For a brief moment, a place I may have passed countless times feels entirely new.
There is a quietness in these moments that I want to hold onto. At times they feel strangely familiar, as though recalling something I cannot quite place. My landscape paintings are an attempt to stay within that fleeting experience—to look a little longer before the light moves on.