About

Something is always there before sound –
not emptiness, but a different kind of attention.

I am a severe to profoundly deaf artist, moving between silence and the sounds I access through hearing aids. I don’t remember entering silence; it has always been present, quietly shaping how I perceive, sense, and understand space. What is often described as absence has, in my experience, become another way of reading the world.

My practice stays close to this position. I approach silence not as a void, but as something lived – something that may be sensed through the body, through attention, through shifts in perception. I find myself returning to the space between the silence I inhabit and the silence others might encounter. These are not the same, yet they sometimes come close.

I try to create environments where silence is not presented as an image or an idea, but where it might begin to emerge – gradually, and in different ways for each person. In these spaces, something subtle can shift. Attention recalibrates. The body slows or becomes more aware of itself. Space may feel altered, though it is difficult to locate exactly how.

I work with materials such as paper, fabric, light, shadow, drawing, and paint for how they hold, filter, interrupt, and transform perception. Collage is central to my process. Through folding, tearing, layering, and suspending, I build structures that remain open and responsive rather than fixed. These forms are often shaped by pauses, gaps, and intervals, allowing space to remain active rather than filled.

The installations invite movement and navigation. They are not images to be viewed from a distance, but situations to move within. Light and shadow play a quiet but important role – not as effects, but as ways of orienting the body and shifting spatial awareness. At times, the body becomes more noticeable to itself, as if it becomes the ear, listening differently. 

What emerges is not a single definition of silence, but a range of experiences that remain partial and personal. My own silence cannot be fully accessed by another, yet something can still be shared in the encounter.

My work lingers in this in-between space – between lived silence and encountered silence – where understanding may remain incomplete, but a form of connection begins to take shape.

Even in what seems like absence, something persists.
Something reaches.