There, I work intuitively with translucent
papers, ink, acrylic, collage and natural pigments. I build, obscure and reveal
layers. Repeated marks create rhythm and structure, while fluid materials
introduce chance. Water and pigment are allowed to move and settle, making
traces that cannot be completely controlled or repeated.

This balance between intention and
uncertainty feels close to the landscape itself: shaped by tides, weather,
erosion, growth and human intervention.

My recent practice has become increasingly
rooted in John Muir Country Park. Sustained attention to this one landscape has
allowed me to notice it more deeply and has connected me back to the estuary
landscapes I knew growing up. The work has become a way of linking the place I
see before me with the world I feel inside.

Rather than representing particular views,
I think of the paintings as accumulated landscapes. They hold traces of
observation, material, memory and time — asking how places become part of us,
and how making can give form to that connection.