My work is rooted in the pursuit of emotional resonance through visual tension. I paint in oil on canvas, employing a range of techniques that oscillate between deliberate layering and spontaneous mark-making. While many pieces evolve through transparent glazes that build luminosity and depth, others emerge more rapidly—gestural, intuitive, and immediate. This variability in process reflects the duality I explore in my subject matter: precision versus chaos, surface versus soul, realism versus abstraction.

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Reflections are a central motif in my practice—not merely as optical phenomena, but as metaphysical devices. They serve as portals into interiority, memory, and multiplicity. A sports car mirrored on wet pavement becomes more than a study in engineering and light; it becomes a meditation on velocity, ego, and impermanence. A whale suspended in shimmering ocean currents evokes not only marine majesty but also the quiet vastness of the subconscious. These mirrored surfaces suggest that every image contains its own echo, its own emotional afterimage.

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I am drawn to subjects that embody contrast. Automotive forms—sleek, engineered, and culturally loaded—are often set against turbulent skies or reflective terrain, creating a dialogue between human ambition and natural force. Marine life, with its fluidity and alien beauty, offers a counterpoint: organic, mysterious, and deeply symbolic. Still lifes and florals provide moments of pause, yet even these quieter compositions are charged with tension—between decay and bloom, intimacy and distance.

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My compositions often juxtapose refined detail with loose, expressive passages. This is not merely a stylistic choice but a psychological one. The act of painting becomes a negotiation between control and surrender. I may spend hours rendering the gleam of a headlight or the texture of a petal, only to disrupt that precision with a swipe of color or a gestural blur. This interplay creates a dynamic viewing experience, inviting the eye to oscillate between clarity and ambiguity. It also mirrors my own internal state during creation—a push and pull between intention and instinct.

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Light, in all its forms, is the animating force in my work. I am fascinated by how it transforms surfaces, reveals structure, and evokes mood. Whether it’s the glow of a candle in a still life, the shimmer of ocean light on a lionfish’s spines, or the metallic sheen of a vintage airplane reflecting the sky, light becomes both subject and medium. It allows me to explore temporality, atmosphere, and emotional tone with nuance and depth.

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Thematically, my paintings often engage with ideas of identity, transformation, and the performative self. In surreal compositions featuring masks, mannequins, and robotic heads, I investigate the boundaries between authenticity and artifice. These works are theatrical, even operatic, yet grounded in psychological inquiry. They ask: What do we reveal, and what do we conceal? How do we construct the self in relation to others, to technology, to memory?

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My marine and wildlife pieces, by contrast, are meditations on presence and ecological reverence. The lionfish, the manta ray, the sea turtle—each is rendered with attention to pattern, movement, and habitat. These creatures are not just subjects but symbols: of resilience, adaptation, and the sublime intricacy of the natural world. In painting them, I seek to honor their beauty while also confronting the fragility of their ecosystems.

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Florals and still lifes offer yet another lens—one of intimacy and domesticity. A vase of hydrangeas, a velvet cloth, a candle’s flicker—these elements evoke ritual, memory, and the quiet drama of everyday objects. Yet even here, I introduce dissonance: a surreal twist, a jarring color, a reflection that doesn’t quite align. These disruptions prevent the work from settling into comfort, keeping the viewer alert and engaged.

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Across all subjects, my goal is to create paintings that feel alive—visually rich, emotionally layered, and open to interpretation. I want each canvas to invite reflection, not just of light but of thought. I want viewers to linger, to question, to find their own narratives within the image. My art is not didactic; it is experiential. It offers space for contemplation, for emotional resonance, for metaphysical inquiry.

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The process itself is deeply embodied. I approach the canvas with both reverence and risk. Some days are slow and meditative, with glazes accumulating like sediment. Other days are kinetic, with paint flying and decisions made in seconds. This variability is essential—it keeps the work honest, responsive, and alive. I do not seek perfection; I seek presence.

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In terms of technique, I am committed to craftsmanship. My surfaces are built with care, my edges considered, my color palettes tuned to evoke mood and meaning. Yet I resist virtuosity for its own sake. Technical skill is a tool, not a destination. It serves the emotional and conceptual aims of the work, not the other way around.

 

As an artist, I am less interested in style than in sensibility. My work may span genres—realism, surrealism, expressionism—but it is unified by a consistent emotional tone: one of curiosity, tension, and reverence. I paint to understand, to feel, to connect. Each piece is a conversation—with the subject, with the viewer, with myself.

Ultimately, my paintings are reflections—of light, of life, of the layered complexity of being. They are invitations to look deeper, to feel more fully, to engage with the world not just as it appears, but as it resonates.