My photographs are about attention, memory, and the fragile afterlife of ordinary things. I’m drawn to objects that have slipped quietly out of daily use - an old baseball, a radio that no longer plays, a bottle left to gather dust - and settled into a sort of borderland between memory and forgetfulness. When something is no longer needed, yet not quite discarded, it acquires a pathos that feels almost human.

I work slowly, in darkness. Much of that pace is chosen, and some of it imposed by the shape of my days. I am hemmed in by a chronic illness that forces me to slow down and take solace in ordinary things, to remain in each moment for a bit longer. The photographic technique of light-painting has become an extension of that rhythm: working slowly and in the dark, I trace light across an object until it emerges from the void.

Later, in PhotoShop, I deepen what the light revealed: color, texture, and shape. Each image becomes an archive of moments, stacked one upon another.

When the photograph is finished, I find myself staring at a paradox. All those layers of light and mediation somehow create an intimacy only possible at a distance.

Art can encompass all different aspects of being alive. Some of my work holds questions pointed towards societal norms that I believe deserve scrutiny, other pieces evoke the feeling of carefree joy, and others encourage the emotion of gratitude through beauty. 

When I photograph, the most important factor for me is connecting to the person I’m working with, and creating a space where they feel comfortable and accepted for just being who they are. When people feel their best, they radiate those feelings outward and it imprints into the work itself. 

When it comes to my digital media pieces, those are like a fun puzzle of ideas in my own mind that I get to solve. I begin with extracting a piece of a photo I’ve taken, either a person, scene, or object and then placing them into an empty layer on the drawing application on my tablet. Once there, I use my tablet pen and begin to paint digitally. I add layers of colors and play with the transparency and placement of every aspect in the work. After I’ve pieced together components of the concept for a few hours, I will let it sit there untouched for days so my brain can subconsciously marinate on it. Once I reexamine the work, I decide what I like and what I don’t like. This is where I potentially destroy and redo 90% of the piece. Sometimes only a small portion of the first draft survives the second round. I love this part of the process the most because when I’m not satisfied, it still feels scary to paint over or change a large portion of the work. There’s a fear of losing something that’s potentially already there, but I remind myself that the practice of letting go and trusting yourself, is one of the core aspects of life itself. This continues until my instinct tells me the piece is done, and I know when it’s done because it feels as though the mystery of my own idea has been solved. 

Creating for me is a process that materializes a desire or longing for something that I bring to life by synthesizing light, materials and feelings.

My current  project. titled “FoodSex”  began unexpectedly on a day in 2019, sparked by an idea my sister, Natalie, came up with—a censorable twist on the traditional still life. What started as playful experimentation has since evolved into a collaborative exploration that we’ve pursued over the past six years, both together and independently. Along the way, we've refined the concept, adjusting the styles, influences, and methods to shape the body of work presented here.

At its core, the theme is the subversion of a still life. Traditionally, still life is regarded as a calm, decorative, and non-confrontational genre—easy to admire, universally enjoyable. But I wanted to disrupt that. I aim to make the familiar feel unfamiliar, even unsettling. These images are not meant to comfort; they’re meant to provoke. They might be confusing, surprising, or even off-putting. They ask for a second glance, and in that moment of pause, I hope they reveal something more striking.

While playing with bold color and deliberate form, I work to keep each image visually simple. Each piece isolates a single object against a white backdrop, capturing one distilled moment that tells as much of a story as possible with minimal elements. It’s a balancing act between clarity and ambiguity—one that continues to evolve with every iteration.