taking my time.
painting once a week.
watching the series unfold in its own time.
paintings in progress:
a hallway that turned into a memory
a staircase that leads nowhere obvious
light bouncing off walls i didn’t plan for
scenes that feel lived in but not yet explained
slow thoughts:
i’ve been wanting to work like this for a while.
without urgency.
without translating every mark into language.
the paintings are speaking with warped familiarity,
or at least in their own way that i don’t control.
letting the material be the voice.
letting people enter the image and come to their own conclusions.
letting it breathe.
a thing i keep thinking:
this series is a reflection of my own search for serenity.
working with what’s close.
responding to the shape of my own days.
aware, always, of the turmoil outside the studio door.
not ignoring it but not forcing it into the work either.
art reflects the time we live in
even when it whispers.
today the studio is holding something close but not naming it.
soft resolve and ambient doubt hang in the air .
edges of clarity and blurry embrace.
no announcements. just presence.