I am a sculptor, working primarily in chenille stems. My forms are abstract yet organic, pulled out of my subconscious. They recall simple life-forms like underwater creatures, fantastic plants, or imaginary animals, often incorporating radial symmetry into the composition, at times mingled with references to architectural elements. They are visual ideas brought to life, evolving as they grow in my hands. Creating these three-dimensional pieces feels like drawing in air with the stems in the same intuitive way that I draw on paper.

My work over the last few years has been to depict the movement of water, evoking waves, splashes, cascades, currents, and whirlpools. I see this exploration as being not just about the movement of water, but also about the passage of time and change over time. For me, this work is not merely a metaphor for change and growth, it is more direct than that: the work cannot be separated from the meaning. My process is both intentional and intuitive. Each step leads to the next, allowing for unexpected changes of direction. Because the work is slow and meditative, I work out ideas in my head and my hands as I go along, determining the next step just as I arrive at its threshold, resolving structural or aesthetic problems that might have seemed insurmountable even moments before.

Chenille stems are the perfect medium for me, the wire in the center of each stem allowing me to build up a solid armature with no added materials, while the fibers create the surface. Their fuzziness often brings the familiarity of an old bathrobe or bedspread, while eliciting the joy of mixing art and play in childhood.