Many years ago, during my photography studies, I analyzed countless images of people. The more these images reduced a human body to a physical form, the more I wanted to humanize the subject. Today, I still work with images, but I address them through painting. My work is driven by a question: How do I depict a lived body instead of an observed one? This paradox brings tension and humor into my practice.
I begin by pouring diluted ink onto sheets of polypropylene. Once the puddles dry, I respond by painting and drawing on top of their accidental textures and forms until they seem intentional. My choices prioritize attraction, repulsion, shared laughter, and recognition—experiences that are both uncomfortable and enticing at the same time. When I combine poured ink with carefully planned rendering, the ink looks more alive, fleshy, and real than the painted additions. Visual perception turns into something more visceral, and the most accidental element—the ink—begins to feel familiar, reaching beyond the gaze and tapping into something that connects us.