a back-and-forth about the work

Q: “How would you describe your work?”
A: ”Quiet, not too flashy, a bit haunted, a little off-kilter. It feels recognizable, but it’s warped just enough to make you pause.”

Q: “Why pastel?”
A: ”It’s soft and can be fuzzy but also unruly. You can’t get overly precise with it, it wants to blur, to smudge. I like that. It mirrors memory: unstable, emotional, hard to pin down. ”

Q: “What inspires you?”
A: “I'm drawn to subtle dissonance, moments where something feels slightly off, misaligned, or quietly unresolved. These perceptual gaps become sites of inquiry. My work often begins with what’s overlooked or unspoken and leans into the emotional and psychological weight of that ambiguity. The work might seem quiet at first, but there’s tension in it, texture, and emotional weight if you sit with it.”

Q: “Why do you think you’re drawn to things that feel slightly off?”
A: ”They feel more honest. Too much polish makes me suspicious. It’s in the blur, the tension, the places that don’t quite resolve, that’s where meaning starts to seep through.”

Q: “How do you know when a painting’s done?”
A: ”It’s like a shift in air pressure, something settles. The surface holds together in a way that feels inevitable. I get a quiet jolt, like I’ve arrived somewhere I didn’t know I was heading.”

Q: “And if it doesn’t feel that way?”
A: ”I sit with it for a bit. Sometimes it changes as I play around, sometimes I decide to scrap it or totally rework it. I’ve been learning to trust that not every painting needs to be resolved, some are just part of the process.”

Q: “Tell us more about your recent series?”
A: ”I start with personal photographs, which I run through a model that tries to expand upon the image and fill in the gaps, it guesses at what’s missing. I use that distortion as a starting point, then bring it back into my own physical hands with soft pastel. That translation from machine to gesture is where the work really comes alive. The human part is essential.”

Q: “What kinds of responses stick with you?”
A: ”I’ve been told on a few occasions, that a piece has resonated with someone in a way that they don’t quite understand, that it won’t ‘leave them alone’. Hearing that someone keeps thinking about a painting, that’s the best kind of impact. When it lingers in their minds, when it is felt more than understood.”

Q: “How does your practice engage with contemporary conversations?”
A: ”My work is rooted in a deep interest in how we construct and distort memory; how perception is never neutral, and how tools like AI make that even more visible. I’m drawn to the slippages between what’s recorded and what’s recalled. By feeding personal images through generative models and then translating those outputs into pastel paintings, I’m exploring the space between data and emotion, machine logic and human intuition.”

Q: “What are you currently exploring in your work?”
A: ”Lately, I’ve been less focused on telling a clear story and more interested in creating an atmosphere that sits just out of reach. I’m drawn to ambiguity, not as something to fix, but as something to honor. That in-between space, where memory blurs and things aren’t totally accurate but still feel true, that’s where the work lives. It’s not about facts, it’s about sensation, texture, interpretation.”

Q: “What made you choose the handle @somethingornother on Instagram?”
A: ”Somethingornother calls to mind that moment when you’re reaching for a thought or memory you can almost feel, but can’t quite name. Somethingornother reflects the threshold where sensation precedes understanding, that edge is where a lot of my work begins; where things are felt before they’re understood. It’s a way of holding space for uncertainty and letting it be enough.”