A selection of photographs, works on paper and poems created between 2008—2025. A documentation, diary and a source that feeds my thoughts and the painting process.
Tells her every little ghost
And they are pink
Shaped as small houses
They think she wants
To feel like home
When her eyes are blue
They turn away
A burning face
She doesn’t rest
I carry her in my stomach
But she doesn’t rest
I think she whispered to me about her waiting
And how the dust on her fingertips
Makes her feel fragile
I met her hidden in the grass
She jumped at me
When I
You know when you carry the heavy
Lumps of coals into your own eyes
Cold fingers on my closed eyes
I’m back again
I know I am capable of everything
When in my mind I can open another door
To the darkness they’ve never known
And they will never know
Running away is only good as long as
Someone is chasing you
I stopped in the middle of green
We realized we were alone
Blow them away
I will be gone soon
Only because
I like coming back
He just became beautiful