Custom works. Originals. Designs to fit your Space.
Where has my artwork been exhibited?
Carnegie Museum
Metropolitan Museum of Art
Sotheby’s
The National Gallery
The Victorian Government Solicitor’s Office
Essential Services Commission Office
Agora Gallery, NYC
Chelsea Hotel, NYC
Trinity Gallery, Pittsburgh
And the list goes on...
At first glance, my work can feel chaotic—splashes of color, collaged textures, and layered strokes colliding across the surface. But beneath that energy is a careful process, a construction that reveals depth, fragments of memory, and traces of emotion. I think of each painting as a psychological landscape, built step by step, where chaos slowly fuses into harmony.
The act of making is everything. I don’t set out with a clear map; instead, I approach the canvas like solving an equation, except my “numbers” are color, texture, and material. What begins as a collision of unlikely choices, settle in the rhythm represented by pigments and objects. Through persistence and intuition, the layers fuse into something whole. For me, this is the real pulse of abstraction, the transformation of risk into cohesion.
While my surfaces may echo the raw spontaneity of Pollock or the charged abstractions of Richter, my intent is not imitation, it is connection. Each piece is given the name of a person. This is not only a way to identify the work, but a way to personify it. A name instantly pulls the painting out of pure abstraction and into the realm of the psyche. We can’t help but bring our preconceived notions, ideas, and associations to a name. A painting called Angela or Victor becomes more than paint on canvas, it becomes a presence, vivid and unpredictable, alive with the baggage and intimacy that the viewer unconsciously carries into the encounter.
Materials deepen this dialogue. Alongside acrylic, tempera, and oil, I often incorporate found and personal object, T-shirts, flowers, bed sheets, even clothing from my childhood. These items aren’t random; they are chosen for texture, color, and their ability to spark recognition. They hold history, and when embedded into the work they open the door for viewers to draw on their own memories. Just as Duchamp reimagined a bicycle as sculpture, I reimagine these fragments of the everyday as emotional triggers.
Ultimately, I want my work to act less as an object to be analyzed and more as an experience to be felt. The paintings are exuberant, restless, and deliberately open-ended. I don’t ask viewers to see what I see. Instead, I want to stir what lies beneath their own surface, associations, emotions, subconscious responses shaped by lived experience. In this sense, the viewer becomes the ringmaster, directing their own encounter with the work.
Abstraction has often been accused of being inaccessible, but I believe its strength lies in that very openness. Without literal images dictating meaning, abstraction invites us inward. My aim is to create spaces where memory and psyche can collide with texture and color, where fragments or personal and collective history resurface, and where each painting stands not only as a composition, but as a presence, raw, magnetic, and alive.
Countries where my artwork can be found in private collections.
(How well do you know your flags. Test time 😄😉)
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