Artist Statement

In 2019, I returned to watercolor painting and found myself drawn to birds. Over time, their flight echoed my own search for change and renewal, carrying with it a sense of hope, resilience, and the freedom to move forward even in uncertain times.

Watercolor, to me, is not simply a medium but a way of thinking — a philosophy of impermanence and attention. I’m drawn to it precisely because it refuses control. The pigment moves according to its own logic, softening or vanishing in ways I can only partly guide. That act of surrender mirrors what it means to live, to remember, to feel. Every painting becomes a conversation between intention and accident — between what I hope to hold and what inevitably slips away.

Nature, birds, and wildlife remain at the heart of my practice. Through them, I’ve learned to listen more closely to silence, to movement, and to the quiet strength that exists in the natural world. Transparency is the soul of watercolor. Nothing can be hidden; every layer remains visible, like memory, like emotion. Its fragility feels human to me — the way color can flood, recede, or cling to the surface like breath against glass. The untouched spaces, the light preserved rather than painted, matter as much as the marks themselves. They are pauses, absences, moments of stillness where meaning gathers quietly.

My paintings are created to offer moments of calm, presence, and reflection — an invitation to pause. The collection The Air Between Us grew from years of painting in contemplative silence. Each bird carries something different: a sense of rest, the grace of flight, or the stillness of waiting. They are not simple illustrations, but moments of understanding — symbols of freedom, healing, and possibility.

Owls, cranes, hummingbirds, eagles, bee-eaters — each rendered in delicate, deliberate strokes — embody different aspects of the natural world. Through their varied forms and behaviors, these birds carry solitude and hopefulness, but also a reminder that beauty and resilience exist even in the smallest movements of life.

Ultimately, watercolor is my language for translating what can’t be fully said — a way of honoring the fleeting, the imperfect, and the beautifully unfinished. My wish is that these paintings offer a breath of quiet, a presence, or a sense of companionship for those who encounter them. You don’t have to explain why one speaks to you. You simply feel it.