My creative practice grows from the recognition that we inhabit and encounter a world that can never be fully known. Every object, material, place, and living thing possesses a reality beyond what can be perceived or understood. Rather than overcoming this distance, my work seeks to dwell within it.

Making is my way of knowing. Understanding emerges through the process of making itself, where each work becomes an encounter rather than a representation. Making is also a practice of paying attention to relationships that often remain unnoticed.  The materials I work with are collaborators rather than passive media. Water, pigment, paper, wool, stone, fiber, light, heat, and time each possess their own agency. I work by responding to what materials do, and the finished work emerges through a negotiation between intention and material behavior.

Because things never fully coincide, every encounter carries delay, duration, and change. Time is not a neutral backdrop but emerges through these unfolding relationships. Making participates in and reveals this temporality.  I am drawn to slow processes that allow these relationships to become perceptible.

If every encounter remains partial, then beauty emerges through the distance between things rather than their complete resolution.  Beauty belongs to moments of partial revelation, where something becomes perceptible without ever becoming fully known. My work deliberately remains incomplete so that this distance remains open.

Place is central to my work. I think of landscape not as scenery but as an unfolding network of relationships among materials, bodies, histories, ecologies, and temporalities. Likewise, place is not a fixed location but something continually made and remade through the movements and encounters of human and more-than-human worlds. My work explores how making allows these relationships to become perceptible.

I am interested in forms of representation that reveal rather than describe. Drawing, painting, felting, papermaking, and other material practices are ways of thinking. Rather than illustrating ideas or places, I am interested in allowing aspects of the world to become manifest through the process of making.

When wool is felted under heat, water, and pressure, the animal, the climate, the landscape, and the time embedded in those fibers do not disappear. They remain materially present and active. When pigment settles into paper, mineral histories, gravity, chemical processes, and duration gather in that moment. Rather than depicting place, the work becomes a site where aspects of place appear again.

Making gathers forces - geological time, biological processes, chemical reactions, pressure, hesitation, touch. Through their encounter, aspects of the world become perceptible. In this sense, making becomes a way of allowing the world to appear again, without ever claiming to fully know or contain it.