What you see are not compositions, but fields of interruption — evidence of something trying to come through, something that can’t be fully contained.
YOU’RE NOT THE CREATOR OF A PAINTING, YOU ARE THE CREATOR OF THE MOMENT OF BEING A PAINTER.
Creating Moments, Not Just Paintings
The act of painting isn’t about chasing a perfect outcome—it’s about creating the conditions where something unexpected can emerge. It’s in that flow state—when judgment drops away—that we open ourselves to surprise. Painter Philip Guston echoed this when he said he wanted “to make something I have never seen before.” Both point to the same truth: the real work is showing up, staying present, and allowing the artwork to arrive as if from somewhere else.
“Exploring the space between observation and invention through painting, drawing, and teaching.”
I began as a painter focused on precision — the structure of form, light, and space. Over time, I became more interested in what happens beneath that structure — the accidents, revisions, and discoveries that occur when control gives way to process.
My work has evolved from representation to exploration: drawings and paintings that examine how images shift, break apart, and reassemble through gesture and material. What begins as observation often becomes reconstruction — a negotiation between intention and accident, logic and improvisation.
Teaching plays a vital role in this evolution. In the classroom, I encourage students to experiment freely, to question what they see, and to find meaning through making. My studio practice and teaching continually inform each other — both rooted in curiosity, iteration, and discovery.
Whether developing new series like Disrupted Portals, mentoring students through projects such as Shawl We?, or exploring intersections between drawing and design, I remain committed to one idea: that making art is a way of learning about the world — and ourselves.