“Afternoon rain and the melting sun”, 2025,
oil and sewing on canvas.
“Cloudy day in a pot of flowers”, 2025, oil and sewing on canvas, 25”x39” (63.5x100cm)
M.A.P. - mixed media, 60”x62” (152x 158 cm), 2025
When I work, many feelings surface—doubt, clarity, vulnerability, confidence. I’ve learned to stay with all of it. The process isn’t just about making something; it’s about letting the work and the emotions shape one another. It becomes an encounter between practice, memory, understanding, and presence.
One piece may look like a flower, yet I call it a map. That quiet contradiction is intentional. A flower doesn’t tell you where to go—it simply is: rooted, present, unfolding in its own time. A map, by contrast, suggests direction and destination. By naming a flower-shaped piece a map, I invite a shift in perception. What if presence itself—being exactly where you are—is already a kind of arrival?
While you wonder why it’s called a map, you’re already engaging. You’re present. That’s the point. It’s where we meet: you, the viewer, curious and open; and me, the maker, offering a message without demanding an answer.
M.A.P.— Moment, Attunement, Presence isn’t steps to follow, but an idea to sit with.
In a world that values clarity, progress, and outcomes, this work gently resists. It holds space for the unfinished, the uncertain, the imperfect. It suggests that not knowing isn’t a flaw—it’s part of being . And maybe, just being exactly here, as you are, without needing to explain or resolve anything, is already enough.
Flowers in pot talking with a window, 2025, textile mixed media, 25”x25” (63.5x63.5cm)
Flying Flowers, unfinished mixed media, 2025
Flying flowers in a rainy windy day, 2025, mixed media, 12”x12” (30.5x30.5cm)
This little work emerges from a place that isn't rooted in memory, because what it evokes never actually occurred. It is the emotional trace of something unformed, a tenderness or a longing, but not anchored in any known past. There is no narrative behind it, no story to explain it, and yet the feeling is unmistakably real. It’s as if the body remembers something the life never lived.
The piece becomes a vessel for emotional truths without factual history. It's not about nostalgia, because there's nothing to return to. It's not even fantasy, because it's not projecting forward, it's just there, intense and present. A kind of emotional ghost because it’s a emotion without real reference.
12 flowers in 3 little pots, 2025, mixed media, unframed