Precise Perception as Resistance
When the world becomes too big, I find orientation in the details.

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My work grows out of fine-grained perception. The world is often loud and overwhelming. I find orientation in the details: in grain, friction, light, temperature, and rhythm. I scale up what is small in order to breathe again.

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Materials are not just tools to me, but counterparts. Paper, pastel, graphite, or oil stick respond, resist, glide, and push back. I study these behaviors and condense them into pictorial spaces you can “enter.”

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I’m less interested in subject matter than in sensory experience: What does contact feel like? How does tension become visible? My works only hold intensity when they are energetically charged, when pressure, restlessness, and friction find form.

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I need spaciousness in order not to collapse, and detail in order not to dissolve. Precise perception is, for me, resistance to numbness. A form of grounding in a world I love, and that often overwhelms me.

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My work is about orientation through sensory order. My practice follows clear starting conditions: I reduce decisions, set parameters, and develop series that can deepen over time. This is how the small becomes large, until it can hold.