I paint because there is no other language that speaks so directly from within. Painting is not my way of representing the world; it is how I step into it. I am not interested in fixed forms or clear narratives. I am drawn to what lies between: emotion, memory, tension.

I work with color because it resists control. It moves, collides, blends, and disappears—just like thoughts, like time, like sensation. When I paint, I enter a state of presence. There is no plan, no script, only the encounter between material and surface. What matters is not the subject itself, but how it dissolves into the act of making. Color becomes space. Line becomes rhythm. Surface becomes experience.

My paintings are built in layers. Each one holds a fragment of the moment, like a still held in memory. These are not illustrations, but traces of perception...accumulated, overlapping impressions that capture the movement of thought and feeling across time. I do not try to explain what they are. I let them remain open, unresolved, alive.

I paint to search for freedom. Not to follow rules, but to break them. The act of painting is not about perfection or clarity. It is about listening inward, responding honestly, and trusting the unknown. I do not need a reason to paint. I need the space, the color, and the permission to let go.

I paint because it is the most truthful way I have to be in the world.