I paint because language is too slow for what the body remembers. My work does not explain and does not translate. It stays with what resists—skin, weight, folds, fragility. I do not aim to illustrate concepts or tell stories. I...
Read MoreI paint because language is too slow for what the body remembers. My work does not explain and does not translate. It stays with what resists—skin, weight, folds, fragility. I do not aim to illustrate concepts or tell stories. I work figuratively, but never narratively. The figure is not a character. It is a tension. A site. A pressure point.
The bodies in my paintings are stretched, fractured, exposed. They are not posed. They are held. Their proportions shift. They remain unfinished. I do not offer resolution or clarity. I offer presence. A presence that can unsettle, disturb, touch.
My paintings do not ask to be understood. They ask to be felt. They ask the viewer to linger in the space where meaning dissolves and the body begins to speak. I believe affect is a form of knowledge. I believe ambiguity is a kind of truth.
In my research project “Does art touch deeper without interpretation” I explored this question precisely. What happens when the image is not explained. When it is not deciphered. When it is simply encountered. The paintings do not offer messages. They are not metaphors. They are invitations.
I do not assign meaning. I open space. The work does not conclude. It breathes.
