In this series of mixed-media works, I’m not aiming to freeze an image. I’m drawn instead to a state that feels ongoing—colors, textures, and forces constantly intertwining, colliding, covering, and rewriting one another. The canvas becomes less a picture and more a live site of continuous activity.
Color, for me, is a conversation rather than a harmony. I like to let warm and cool tones clash and spark, to let them open up space through tension. Sometimes they resemble mineral veins pulled from deep underground; other times they rise with the molten energy of lava. These forces echo both the power of the natural world and the shifting tides of my own emotions during the act of painting.
Texture is never decoration—it’s a record of time. Each layer I cover, scrape, wipe, or rebuild carries its own pulse. Together they form a kind of geological cross-section, openly revealing the accumulation of moments rather than hiding them beneath a polished surface.
My paintings don’t follow a traditional center. They behave more like maps of energy—expanding outward, folding inward, and growing at their own pace. The sudden bursts of color and the slow settling of material give the work a dual rhythm: an immediate visual impact paired with a deeper, slower breath.
This stage of my practice feels freer and more candid. I’m no longer trying to “complete” an image. I’m letting colors and materials unfold according to their own logic, allowing their interactions to shape an organic and unexpected order.
These paintings are not depictions of landscapes. They are landscapes being generated—right there on the canvas.
Layered, fluid, and forceful—
they are my most honest expression in this moment.
