What happens to time when we try to hold it? How does memory distort what it preserves?

I'm interested in time - how it accumulates, how memory reshapes it, how the past bleeds into the present. My work is about questioning our relationship with what passes.

My practice moves between painting, writing, generative code, music, and animation - different languages for the same obsessions. Each medium catches something the others miss. The algorithm can simulate the accident of a brushstroke; the text can say what the image only implies; the painting holds what neither can. They come together differently depending on the work - some pieces are still, others move, some are silent, others aren't.