My work examines the layered relationships between land, memory, spirit, and material. Working across painting, relief, printmaking, and installation, I approach surface as a site where time accumulates—built up, compressed, eroded, and revealed. Wax, pigment, plaster, and paper are applied, embedded, and scraped back to create sedimented fields that function as both physical strata and quiet metaphors for lived experience.
In the studio, I often feel the work revealing itself through the process. Rather than illustrating a fixed idea, I listen for what materials hold, resist, and release through making. Meaning emerges through repetition and transformation—through pressure, removal, fracture, and repair—as the work gradually arrives at its own internal logic. The surface becomes a record of decisions and disruptions, but also of patience: a place where what is buried can rise to view again.
Rooted in connections to land shaped by Afro-Indigenous heritage, my work emerges as both a physical record and a spiritual archive. Wax, pigment, plaster, and paper are built up and scraped back to form layered constructions that hold residue, pressure, and release. These works ask how matter carries memory, and how time becomes visible through accumulation, erosion, fracture, and repair.
Increasingly, my practice extends beyond two-dimensional painting into installation and spatial experience. Recent work incorporates salt, sound, and video to engage how the work is experienced through space, light, and the viewer’s movement. Whether working at the intimate scale of a small panel or within immersive sculptural form, I aim to create spaces where surface becomes terrain, and where terrain becomes a site of internal reflection.
Through shifting material states—solid to liquid, opaque to translucent, smooth to fractured—I explore thresholds between what is held and what is released. My work is grounded in the belief that abstraction can carry both earth and spirit, presence and time, and that what we live through is often recorded not in narrative, but in layers.