My practice is grounded in material engagement and repetition. I work through processes that require time, resistance, and physical negotiation, allowing the act of making to remain visible rather than concealed. The studio functions not as a place of execution, but as a site of testing, revision, and return.

I work primarily with mixed media, combining oil, encaustic, cyanotype, acrylic, and drawing alongside repurposed materials. Each medium is chosen for its capacity to hold tension — between fragility and endurance, precision and erosion. Materials are not treated as neutral supports, but as active agents that retain memory, pressure, and transformation within their surfaces.

Oil plays a central role in my practice for its ability to slow the image down. Its density, opacity, and extended drying time allow for prolonged engagement, revision, and hesitation. Rather than functioning as a finishing layer, oil becomes a space where images are negotiated, obscured, and reasserted over time.

Layering is fundamental to the process. Images, marks, and symbols are applied, disrupted, erased, and reintroduced, creating surfaces that operate as accumulations rather than compositions. I am less interested in visual resolution than in preserving evidence of decision-making, resistance, and insistence.

Cyanotype introduces an element of exposure and unpredictability, relying on light and time rather than direct control. Encaustic, through heat and viscosity, embeds gestures into the surface, fixing moments of movement while remaining susceptible to alteration. These processes create a dialogue between intention and chance, where neither fully dominates.

Repurposed and non-traditional materials carry their own histories into the work. These histories are not erased but absorbed, contributing to surfaces that reflect continuity, interruption, and persistence. Material choice becomes both a conceptual and physical decision, reinforcing the work’s relationship to memory and endurance.

The process is iterative. Works evolve over extended periods and are often revisited long after their initial conception. Completion is not defined by resolution, but by the moment when the work resists further intervention. What remains is not a polished object, but a surface that records the labor of staying with uncertainty.