I don’t paint to reflect the world—I paint to unravel how we see it. The subject, whether boots, trees, or twisted metal, is never the point. The work begins in the disruption, where images start to slip and meanings unravel. I build oil paintings that live in a friction between what we expect and what resists expectation. Steel may ripple like cloth, light might fall where logic says it shouldn’t. Each piece asks: What if the way we see isn’t fixed?

My technique becomes a kind of thinking, one that tears at certainty and invites something stranger, more open. These visual contradictions aren’t errors; they are deliberate. They hold space for unmaking, for possibility. I am not searching for beauty. I am searching for a rupture in the myth of the visible—a crack in the lens through which reality might shift, just enough to let something new in.