my work begins where language hesitates — in the fragile space between feeling and form. i study the residue of intimacy, using materials that remember, that bruise, that absorb time. a brushstroke that dries too quickly, clay that cracks in the kiln, fabric that frays at the edge — each becomes a record of care, a quiet rehearsal for what it means to hold and to be held. between what we’re told not to touch and what breaks when we do, i try to find the language of vulnerability.

i’m interested in how materials hold emotion — how colour, weight, and texture speak what the body cannot, how absence itself leaves a mark. conveying personal archives softly but persistently, hoping to express what cannot be said out loud. i treat these efforts and their imperfections as their own kind of writing.

people remain at the centre of my work. each piece begins with a relationship, a moment of tenderness or loss, something fleeting that insists on being remembered. making becomes a translation — of intimacy into object, of vulnerability into endurance, of weakness into power.

my praxis is a place of exchange: part classroom, part confession, somewhere between teaching and learning. art exists to help us listen more carefully — to one another, to ourselves, to the things that survive despite breaking. through clay, paint, paper, fabric, wood, metal — i return again and again to the same quiet question: what remains after? what shape does memory take when it becomes matter?