My art has always been a kind of conversation — between colour and thought, chaos and control, memory and instinct. It begins with a feeling, an idea, or sometimes just a line in my journal, and it builds from there. I work with paint, collage, text, texture — layering these elements until something unexpected reveals itself.

Many of my works are what I call warbles — intuitive, expressive pieces made from fragments of life. Snippets of conversations, handwritten words, scrawled thoughts, old paper, photos, fabric, and clippings all find their way into the canvas. They're deeply personal, but somehow they become mirrors for other people too. Viewers often tell me they see their own stories inside the work, even when I’ve never met them.

I’ve never been drawn to perfection. I like raw edges, imperfections, things that are a little messy but full of soul. There’s always a bit of humour, sometimes a hidden message, and always a lot of colour.

Whether I’m painting a cityscape, a portrait, or a warble, it’s about connection — the kind that lingers long after the paint has dried. I want my work to feel alive, to spark curiosity, and to remind people that beauty often comes from the unexpected.