My work comes from the world I grew up in—a world rich with layers, textures, and unexpected beauty. As a kid, I was always drawn to the worn-down things around me: the peeling paint on old walls, the mix of materials pieced together in everyday life, and the quiet way these objects held stories. The streets, with empty rooftops that became our playgrounds and laundry flapping in the wind, were alive with color and motion—almost like a living painting you could touch.

That same energy is what I try to bring into my work. I often begin with an underpainting that might never fully reveal itself, but it’s there—like the foundation of a memory or emotion waiting to surface. The textures I build through thick paint, scraping, and layering mirror how I remember my surroundings: raw, vibrant, and always in motion. Each brushstroke feels like it’s uncovering something deeper, something beyond the surface.

These layers of paint and texture become a way to express what can’t be captured in a single image or moment. It’s not just about what you see; it’s about what you feel when you engage with it. For me, it’s about everything that happens underneath—the quiet details, the buried stories, the sense that something is always unfolding just beneath the surface.

I want to dive into the concept of place—not just as a physical location, but as something that holds the marks of time, memory, and experience. My work has always been about layers, both visible and invisible. I’m drawn to how spaces absorb stories: the rough edges of a forgotten street corner, the quiet dignity of a weathered wall, the subtle clues left behind by life happening over time. These surfaces carry a kind of silent memory that I want to explore and translate into form.

The process becomes a journey into the hidden life of spaces. I aim to build maps of memory and emotion. Each piece starts with something raw—often overlooked or discarded—and evolves through layers that reflect the complexity of experience. These layers don’t just support the story—they are the story.

There’s something powerful in peeling back the surface. Like revealing time itself, every scrape, crack, and fragment contributes to the spirit of the place it represents. I let the work evolve naturally, each layer responding to the last. Each element carries its own quiet energy, and through layering, I build a visual language rooted in both the personal and the universal, where memory and material are one.

Ultimately, this work is more than image—it’s experience. It’s an invitation to slow down and feel the quiet weight of the spaces we move through. Through layering and building, I want to create a sense of connection between the viewer and the environments they inhabit—physically, emotionally, and historically.