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The celebration of art, and its fruit, is essential to my well-being. Like my wallet and keys, it sinks into my pocket, traveling everywhere, and in every way, with me. I take pride in my eye for artfulness, which is neither confined to technical accuracy nor constrained by rules; instead, it is robust and exact, while otherwise turbulent and unscientific. I strive for precision to serve only my line of sight. Nothing in this field is truly necessary until it is a component—until everything is in its right place and something beautiful, heavy, and tangible has been constructed.
In the beginning, I found myself at odds with this procedure. My ideas would gain tremendous friction in the corridors of my mind, enter a tailspin, and ultimately capsize. But it is beautiful for a thing to contain an overarching purpose and to be recognized by the merit of its contributions to a whole. For now, in my youth, it may occur blatantly and under my nose, but only because I am continuously learning about my specific human condition. It is no secret that art can fall apart countless times before reaching its final destination.
Thus, my truly artistic work often manifests itself, clicking its pieces together with the same caliber that could as easily unravel them. My relationship with art is less about ownership and more about participation. My artistic pursuits do not center on my ego or personal style but rather on my obligation to honor the creative force of the psyche that exists beyond me. This perspective frames my approach to the tools and techniques I use, each of which carries with it what feels like a legacy of human ingenuity. Creating art for me is not a solitary act but a shared endeavor that connects me to a larger continuum.
In my photographic series, Object Permanence (2023), I explored the intimacy of underground artistry by capturing the raw, unpolished energy of the process behind the creation of street art. Each photograph is a commentary on the experience of graffiti artists; the radical, erratic application of their self, and the compromise of their safety, to paint walls with art that one could easily replicate on paper. Rather than creating something "perfect," I sought to capture something real, pushing against traditional colorful aesthetics to find moments of truth, though visually hyperbolic, in the spaces between. When I began developing Object Permanence, I faced a distinct challenge: portraying the subject’s anonymity without obscuring the individuality that makes each person distinct. Through precise, intentional composition, I constructed each image to speak to a broader narrative, while retaining the unique qualities of each artist’s experience that connect to various parts of their lives.
Perhaps this sense of continuity is why I reject the idea of emptiness or imperfection within art. I view every “mistake” or moment of discomfort as a step toward realizing finality. These ideologies especially survive in pieces I have made with ink. Mastering penmanship is a dear aspiration of mine, as the ink has helped me garner a mature understanding of form, light, and shadow through careful and intentional organic strokes. One piece that embodies this process is Cinque Terre (2024), an ink sketch I created on a rocky beach in Monterosso al Mare, Italy. Working with ink is both a challenge and a privilege, requiring a steady hand and a clear mind. There is little room for error—however much belief one has in artistic “errors”—but within those constraints lies the freedom to create with purpose. Every stroke and mark is permanent—no erasers, no undoing. Cinque Terre is one of several recent sketchings that reflect my growth as an artist who values control and fluidity in equal measures.
I do not feel a responsibility for the work I create. Rather, I serve as a conduit for something infinitely greater than me. I express reverence towards the creative force whenever possible, something I believe should be mandatory when you enlist in art’s military. These tools and practices have been in human hands since the conception of time, all used to make unbelievable things by scores of extraordinary people. Thus, they are not mine.
I do not believe in emptiness, blank spaces, or imperfection in a world with creative freedom like ours. No void or gap needs to be filled. I will die on the hill of art and ardently give my life to it. It is beyond precious, flawlessly human, and fated. Art is divination. It is sanctity, it is time travel. It belongs.