As an artist, I’m drawn to the idea of art as a form of “evidence.” But in my practice, evidence is not what it would be to a camera, which captures a scene without selection or nuance. Unlike a camera’s passive eye, an artist’s vision is an active process, layered with choice, perspective, and intention. My work becomes a personal aperture through which I absorb and filter the world—not to record it exactly, but to represent it as I experience it, infusing the image with a unique perspective that only an artist, not a machine, can offer.
This distinction between artist and camera speaks directly to my approach to art-making. Where a camera simply “sees,” an artist interprets, makes decisions, and shapes what is shown, drawing out the subtler layers beneath the surface. My own style has developed through years of exploring different visual languages—from the energy of street art to the structured beauty of calligraphy and the bold clarity of comic books. These elements have merged into a language that synthesizes familiar forms in ways that feel both new and timeless, capturing impressions of the world in marks that offer something distinctive to each viewer.
Art is not just an image or object—it’s a form of storytelling that is as old as humanity itself. My understanding of this deepened when I traveled to the Amazon to study the role of art in Indigenous communities. There, I saw how art becomes a living record, bringing people together and preserving their histories, not for external validation or economic gain but as an act of cultural continuity. In such communities, art serves as a way to honor tradition, to hold and share knowledge, and to forge deep connections between people and the environments they inhabit. Here, art exists outside the frameworks of commerce and individualism; it becomes a communal practice rooted in survival, social bonding, and memory.
Returning to my own work, I find myself drawn to abstraction as a way to honor this mysterious aspect of interpretation. In my paintings, I aim to create a visual language that invites rather than dictates, allowing the viewer to approach and complete the meaning of the work through their own lens. My abstract pieces rely on open forms and layered textures, asking the viewer to engage actively, to bring their own experiences and emotions into the image. The work, in this way, becomes a space for interaction that changes with each viewer who approaches it, creating a sense of continuity between the artist’s intent and the audience’s unique interpretation.
In other projects, such as my documentation of endangered cultures, I apply a different kind of focus. Here, my intent is to make visible the unique beauty and fragility of communities facing extinction, using my art as both a record and a call to preserve what is irreplaceable. These works do not merely represent the past; they engage with the present and speak to the future, asking what kind of legacy we hope to leave behind. By focusing on stories and expressions that might otherwise be lost, I aim to give voice to perspectives and traditions that a camera might capture fleetingly but that an artist can distill and preserve with intentionality.
Ultimately, my work exists in the space between observation and invention, memory and immediacy, story and symbol. It reflects both my personal journey and a broader human experience, an exploration of how we perceive and shape reality through our choices and perspectives. In a world saturated with imagery, my art aspires to deepen engagement, to encourage pause, to ask questions rather than simply show answers. It is both a map of my journey and a testament to the moments of connection that bind us to one another and to the world around us.
