My practice moves through making as a way to absorb, reflect, and speculate. Found materials, research, memory, and fiction interweave in my work to explore themes of spatial permeability and  non-binary/fluid identities. I am drawn to sites where edges blur or are in constant negotiation - between land and water, remembering and forgetting, presence and absence – and create moments/atmospheres that invoke these zones.

Estuarine geographies recur throughout my practice, not only as ecological zones but as metaphors for hybrid identities, porous boundaries, and entangled histories. These landscapes offer a way to think through colonial residues, ecological precarity, and inherited remembrance, while also standing in quiet opposition to the rigid borders and certainties of hyper-nationalism.

I often work across image, text, and installation – bringing together fragments that carry personal, ecological, or historical undercurrents. Materials from my surroundings act as vessels of time and transformation. I’m interested in how these materials carry embedded histories – of human gestures, elemental forces, and entangled relations – that surface through their very presence and suggest shifting connections across time and place.

Narratives in my practice are atmospheric and fractured. I approach fiction as a way of creating an altered mode of perceiving, and to thread a mood or a moment. Sometimes these narratives are not pronounced but work obliquely. I am interested in creating from my inner world – spaces, objects, and atmospheres that I want to feel and see or surround myself with. These works absorb influences from the places I move through in daily life, from things I come across, collect, search for, or remain preoccupied with over time.

My work is also shaped by thinking about movement between places. These passages/crossings inform my reflections on belonging, home, and the politics of being a stranger. I am drawn to the figure of the stranger because it unsettles fixed ideas of identity and community, opening space to think about difference without the demand for assimilation. To be a stranger is not only to stand outside but to inhabit a position of possibility – alert, learning, questioning, and receptive to what dominant narratives overlook.

In this sense, my practice is an act of playing, listening, observing, sensing, making and carrying; and perhaps a way of being in relation to the permeable and the interstitial.