My paintings begin with a seemingly simple desire—to make imagery that feels alive. An early encounter with Rembrandt’s "The Night Watch" showed me that painted figures can breathe beyond the limits of pigment. I started to understand painting not as a mirror of the world, but as a world in itself, an event, a presence.

In my paintings, bodies, interiors, statuary, and fragments of memory surface through a process of building and dismantling. I layer, scrape, obscure, and recover, allowing images to emerge slowly, unearthed rather than composed. Figures and forms inhabit unstable spaces where geometry becomes both body and architecture, surfaces give way to skin, and observation slips into invention.

I am drawn to a place between opposites: abstraction and representation, intimacy and distance, construction and collapse. The painting records a history of doubt and recovery. Regardless of visual language, presence arrives gradually, through accumulation and erasure. Ultimately, I want the work to do more than describe a world. I want it to stand in the room with the viewer, provisional, breathing, and alive.