I paint to disrupt certainty.
I grew up between two opposing worlds—strict control and complete freedom. In one, truth was dictated. In the other, it was lived. I learned early that what we’re told to believe and what actually feels true don’t always match. That tension never left me.
My work lives in that space.
I don’t give you answers—I deliberately obscure them. I build tension on purpose, giving you just enough to recognize something, but not enough to settle into certainty.
When you stand in front of one of my paintings, you’re not just looking at it—you’re participating in it. The work acts as a mirror. What you see says as much about you as it does about the image itself.
I’m not interested in your approval. I’m interested in your reaction—how you interpret what you’re seeing, what you project onto it, what you recognize. Collectors often tell me the work stays with them long after they’ve walked away.
My paintings are held in private collections across the United States, Europe, South America, and Australia. Collectors return not just for the work itself, but for the experience of living with it—the way it continues to reveal, challenge, and reflect.
This isn’t art that resolves itself. It doesn’t decorate a space. It holds tension inside it.
If you’re looking for something that simply matches your room, this isn’t it.