Artist's Statement

There is a darkness in my work. Sometimes it acts like a door. It stands there, quiet and unassuming, waiting for someone to step through it. In my prints, paintings and writing, this place does not lead anywhere obvious. Here, things dissolve and reassemble. Objects shift like memories: the scent of turpentine triggers the memory of a forgotten dream; an antique etching press whispers in the background; a lost tool reappears in an unexpected place. These things happen. I do not question them. Reality is never quite as solid as it seems.

My prints and paintings exist in a world of stark contrasts, halftones, and deliberate silences. The compositions are precise, but they hold within them something unsettled. There is something that lingers just beyond reach. My writing is much the same. Simple, clipped sentences leave space for what is not said; A man walks into a room he is already in; A printing press that once seemed ordinary now breathes; A woman picks up a carving tool and feels the weight of a history she cannot name. These moments, suspended between the mundane and the extraordinary. This is the place where my work resides.

Time does not move in a straight line here. In my work, the past intrudes, the present flickers, the future is uncertain. Prints and paintings carry the echo of images long forgotten. A story folds in on itself, revealing something new each time someone reads it. Creativity becomes an act of translation—of shaping, cutting away, revealing and concealing. It is also an act of obsession. The work demands attention, and in return, it offers only questions. For me, that is enough. To stand in the doorway and look out into the unknown, is where the real creativity begins.