My paintings explore the thin edge between order and collapse, where beauty flickers, and what feels familiar begins to tilt slightly wrong. Using large-scale acrylic on canvas, I work through layers of color that behave like shifting air: heat and cool light arguing across the same space.

I paint landscapes not as places, but as states of perception, psychological terrains where silence vibrates and time stands uneven. Branches, fields, and fragments of human presence appear and dissolve, as if memory itself were trying to take form. Every mark is a conversation between control and surrender, surface and depth, structure and drift.

The work begins in observation but resolves in atmosphere. Each painting is a record of a decision to stop, to hold still, to let uncertainty exist. What remains on the canvas is less about nature than about how it feels to stand inside the instability of seeing.