My work begins with instinct. I don’t start with a predetermined palette or plan—I follow the rhythm of a mark, the pull of a color, the tension between spontaneity and restraint. Whether I’m working with paint, paper, or found materials, I respond physically and emotionally, letting curiosity lead. I move fluidly between mediums—painting, sculpture, collage—driven not by a fixed method but by an openness to what wants to emerge. Some days I’m pulled toward dense layering, other days I spend hours cutting hundreds of pieces of paper. My materials shift with my mood, and I give myself full permission to linger where the energy is.

I’m a physical painter—movement is central to my creative process. Working large-scale feels most natural to me because it lets my whole body engage. I move in close, pressing into the surface, then step back to take in the composition. That constant shift between action and reflection—between tactile immediacy and spatial awareness—is what makes painting so compelling. It’s not just about the image; it’s about inhabiting the space, letting the body think alongside the brush.

In contrast to a linear approach, I usually work on multiple paintings at once—four to six canvases in rotation. Each day, I’m pulled toward something that needs to be revealed. The resonance between the works becomes its own kind of energy. These relationships feed one another in ways I can’t always anticipate. I respond to the paintings as they respond to me—stepping in, stepping back, sometimes stretching, doing yoga, even flipping into an impromptu handstand. There’s a rhythm between breath, body, and canvas that I trust deeply.

Place matters. I respond intuitively to my environment, and the contrast between working in Portland, Oregon and New York City pushes different tones and textures to the surface. The density and friction of the city invite boldness, while the expansiveness of the Pacific Northwest draws out a different kind of spaciousness and layering. I welcome discomfort—it sharpens my awareness and gives the work an edge.

Some collectors have described feeling a quiet tension in my work, a sense of movement beneath the surface, or a moment of unexpected stillness. I’m fascinated by optics and the psychology of seeing—how color, pattern, and mark-making can shift perception and invite deeper attention. That space between what is seen and what is sensed continues to pull me back to the canvas.

Painting remains my predominant medium, not because it’s easy, but because it resists finality. There’s always more to discover. I approach each canvas without limitations—no fixed style, no formula. Just an ongoing conversation between instinct, material, and moment.