This is a question I return to often, not from a marketing perspective but from a human one.

Over time, I’ve realised that my work isn’t for everyone, and I’ve come to see that as a strength rather than a limitation. My paintings are not loud declarations. They don’t rush to explain themselves. Instead, they invite a slower kind of looking, one that mirrors how memory, emotion, and the body operate.

My work is for people who feel deeply, even when they don’t always have the words.

Many of the people who connect most strongly with my paintings don’t necessarily consider themselves “art people.” They are reflective humans; people who live attentively, who notice patterns, absences, and shifts beneath the surface of everyday life. They are drawn to resonance, not spectacle.

At the heart of my practice is an interest in the complexity beneath the surface. Layers accumulate, marks are built and interrupted, textures emerge and recede. Much like memory, the surface becomes a palimpsest, holding traces of what has been, even as it continues to change. This way of working reflects how experience settles within us over time: not neatly, not linearly, but through accumulation.

My work often resonates with people navigating complexity. Those carrying layered identities, histories of migration, caregiving roles, or moments of transformation that don’t come with clear beginnings or endings. People who understand that healing is rarely straightforward, and that the body remembers even when the mind moves on.

There is also a strong pull for those who sit comfortably between disciplines — thinkers who are also feelers. Viewers drawn to philosophy, medicine, science, and nature often find entry points in my work. Series such as De Rerum Natura emerged from this space, where observation and emotion coexist, and the natural world and the human body echo one another in unexpected ways.

For collectors, this often translates into a desire to live with a work, rather than simply own it. My paintings tend to find homes with people who value meaning over status; with individuals who want a work to age alongside them, to reveal new readings as life unfolds. The relationship is ongoing, not fixed at the moment of acquisition.

Ultimately, my paintings are for those seeking a pause in a noisy world. They reward looking again. They offer space for reflection, breath, and attention. They don’t demand answers, but invite presence.

If my work does anything, I hope it creates a quiet moment of recognition — a sense of being seen not for what is obvious, but for what is layered, held, and felt.

If this resonates, you can explore current series here.