My work tends to fall in one of two areas: realism or weird ("creative") reconstruction. When I paint realistic scenes, I take something familiar, like the inside of a cafe, and try to provoke a feeling of absence and melancholy. When I want to be more conceptual, I take that familiar thing and to blur the lines between what is seen and what exists in real life. Either way, I hope to inspire an appreciation for the visual complexity of the real world. I work primarily in acrylic.

I fell in love with linocutting during the pandemic, as a refuge from screens and a return to making something I could hold. After primarily printing generative art, I saw linocutting as a way to seize the means of my art production (heh).

Unfortunately, the workflow of making multiple prints brought along an expectation that I had to sell them, which sent me down a mental spiral where the value of the work became tangled up with its price. Sometimes you have to step away from something you love to remember why you loved it in the first place. I've tried to keep aspects of what I like about block prints in my painting practice: limited colour palettes, limited brush strokes, a focus on light and shadows as a way of conveying meaning.

My generative work examined the geometries found in nature and simplifies their shapes as digital art pieces using mathematics.

I "program" my art on a computer by creating code that intentionally introduces randomness in its output. While this means that I can't predict exactly what each of my programs will create, I do control where and how the randomness enters the artwork. I then curate hundreds of outputs from each program until I find the artwork that is the closest to what I had in mind when starting that piece. I find that generative art lets me focus more on the creative aspects of art, and forces me to work around the technical limitations of the medium.