My paintings rarely begin with a fixed image. They begin with a sensation or a physical response to a place. Painting is where perception, memory and material begin to think together.

At the heart of my practice lies the interplay between control and letting go. There are moments when I surrender to the paint, the material and chance, and others when I consciously intervene, making decisions and creating new relationships within the composition. This constant oscillation between intuition and intention shapes the development of every painting.

I work with oil paint because of its physicality and depth. Layers overlap, traces remain visible, and earlier decisions continue to resonate within later ones. I am drawn to states of transition—between stillness and movement, density and openness, proximity and distance. Rather than resolving these tensions, I am interested in the moments when they can exist simultaneously.

Although traces of landscape often remain visible, they no longer describe a specific place. As the painting develops, landscape becomes a space of perception rather than representation—a place where memory, bodily experience and the act of painting converge.

My paintings do not tell fixed stories. They emerge through trust in the process and through the conviction that painting can make visible what cannot be fully expressed in words.