Our Song

Pigment breaks loose across the surface, feathered forms climbing through bands of color, caught in the instant before they open all the way.

Paint falls in continuous vertical streams, layer over layer, color caught mid-descent before it ever reaches the ground.

At the edge of the visible world, resin,  pigment powders, and luminous forms suggest planetary landscapes no one has named yet.

Immediate, unguarded and alive. Color erupts, gestures cut across fields of pattern, painting as a way of releasing what words cannot hold.

Burlap, plaster, and mixed media hold the memory of surfaces worn by time, artifacts of a history that was never written down.

Pigment flows in channels across white ground, color finding its own path the way water finds a bed to run through.

Pigment pools and cracks across the surface, veined like a lakebed or a membrane, ground still settling into its shape.