To cast a form is to make a promise to time — to take something as brief as a gesture and hold it in place. My sculptures reference the human form, but arrive somewhere past likeness.
I reduce it to planes, contours, and angular geometries: formal elements that work less like anatomy and more like language. The process is meditative — each edge honed until it carries
intention rather than just describing a surface.

I work across bronze, aluminum, and cast mineral composites, letting each material dictate its own weight and finish. What stays constant is what I’m after underneath: the archetypal,
the presence that resists a single name. Some pieces echo ancient deities or mythic spirits; others feel suspended between eras, at once primordial and unbuilt yet. They don’t assert one
meaning — they leave room for the viewer to bring their own mythology to the encounter.

In a moment built for speed and spectacle, my work asks for something slower: attention. These are not explanatory objects. They are devotional — built to be lived with,
not just looked at.

This isn’t simply a practice. It’s an extension of who I am.