On Form
Nested Core (2025) – Ink on cut paper 3×4 in.
Form began as a study of how ink takes shape, how liquid meets surface and becomes structure. When I paint, that threshold becomes visible: pigment absorbs, spreads, then steadies. Each mark is a negotiation between motion and containment, showing how the surface gives body to what moves across it.
Over time I began to see the same process in how bodies take shape through relation. Dependency becomes structure; care becomes architecture. A child’s growth, like ink settling on paper, depends on what holds it, not through control but through responsiveness. These rhythms come from life with two small children, where formation is constant but rarely seen. Interruptions, pauses, feeding, lifting, returning: these repetitions build the structure of the day and, by extension, the work.
In the studio this logic feels physical. I cut each form from paper, an act of separation and precision. The cut is not decoration. It is where connection happens, where two shapes rely on each other to stay whole. It is a seam: a site of dependency and division at once. The edge holds tension between touch and restraint.
Ink makes these pressures visible. It pools, bleeds, resists, dries. Paper receives it or refuses it. The hand intervenes or withdraws. Form is not imposed; it is revealed through conditions. Gravity, absorption, hesitation, decision: these forces shape the image as much as intention does.
What interests me is not perfection, but integrity, whether a form can hold. Where does it buckle? Where does it rest? Where does pressure become visible? These questions are formal, but not only formal. They mirror the structures that hold life in place.
Form, for me, is not a fixed outline. It is the meeting point between material, body, and time. It is the visible trace of support and strain. It is how care becomes shape.