An Ordered and Organized Universe, 54x54 inches, mixed media, 2025
Night Fall 2, 48x36 inches, mixed media, 2025
All Things Connected, 48x60 inches, mixed media, 2025
Heavenly Blues, 40x40inches, mixed media, 2025
The Invisible Pull
Saturday, January 10th - 24th, 2026
Bau-Xi Gallery Vancouver
3045 Granville Street
Artist's Reception: Saturday, January 10th, 2-4pm
1. The title The Invisible Pull suggests forces that are felt rather than seen. Can you talk about your approach to depicting invisible emotional or spiritual phenomena in these new works?
Over the years, my landscapes and seascapes have often included strange auras or subtle disturbances, reflecting a desire to represent forces that exist beyond the visible world. This impulse comes largely from my meditation practice and the expanded awareness it cultivates. Meditation softens the edges of perception, allowing intuition to guide me toward a deeper connection with both myself and my surroundings. I’m particularly drawn to this in-between state—one that feels spacious, alive, and quietly transformative—where the familiar world seems to open into something more expansive.
In this latest series, I introduced vertical lines into these airy scenes as a way of making the invisible visible. These lines reference the unseen gravitational forces of the sun and moon, which govern the movement of the tides and, by extension, our own bodies. They pass through the compositions by dissolving into waves, shifting in transparency and depth, suggesting both cosmic influence and spiritual presence. I’m interested in the contrast between the smallness of our daily lives—people playing in the surf—and the vast, unseen forces continually shaping our world. The lines also function as quiet beacons, hinting at guidance, intervention, or a sense of being held within something much larger than ourselves.
2. Many of your recent works hold a tension between human presence and vast natural space. What compelled you to bring visible human presence into your images?
I
ntroducing figures into the oceanscapes allowed me to create a stronger sense of scale and vulnerability. The waves, sky, and horizon become more expansive when placed beside small, human forms, emphasizing how dwarfed we are by the natural world. The figures also introduce a subtle narrative tension—viewers instinctively wonder what these people are doing, what they’re waiting for, or what they might be feeling.
So far, I’ve gravitated toward surfers, swimmers, and people walking along the beach—figures that feel naturally embedded in the rhythm of the ocean. I’m not yet sure how far this aspect will develop, but I’m interested in how human presence complicates the scene, grounding the work while also heightening its emotional and psychological resonance.
3. Surfing often involves waiting, watching, floating, and sensing. What does this state of anticipation offer you as an artist?
My
image-making process closely mirrors the experience of surfing. It involves long periods of waiting and watching—waiting for the right light, the right wave, or the right alignment of elements—while staying attuned to subtle shifts in mood and energy. There’s a strong sense of anticipation at this stage, full of promise and potential.
The painting phase is where that anticipation turns into action. It’s the most intuitive and intimate part of the process, where each brushstroke responds to an already sharp photographic image. Finding harmony between photography and painting can be extremely challenging, but it’s also where the work comes alive. Much like surfing, it’s about responding to a powerful force—whether a wave or an image—and finding balance within it rather than trying to control it.
4. How does meditation inform your studio process—not just thematically, but in the rhythm and pace of making your art?
“Th
e heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides and in its depths it has its pearls too.”
—Vincent van Gogh
This quote resonates deeply with me because it captures the complexity of inner experience. Meditation is often associated with calm and clarity, and while that is part of it, there’s also a stage where it becomes difficult and even painful. Letting go requires facing suppressed memories, uncomfortable emotions, and internal resistance.
This rhythm strongly informs my studio practice. There are moments of stillness, openness, and clarity, followed by periods of struggle and uncertainty. Rather than rushing through those moments, meditation has taught me to stay with them, trusting that something meaningful will eventually surface. The pace of my work reflects this ebb and flow—slow, attentive, and responsive—allowing the image to emerge rather than forcing it.
5. Your practice combines photographic source material with painterly intervention. What continues to draw you to this combination of mediums?
Phot
ographs often contain an overwhelming amount of visual information, inviting multiple interpretations and narratives at once. While I’m drawn to that richness, I’m equally interested in reducing visual noise to uncover a sense of calm and spaciousness beneath it.