My work begins in a place I call the Bedland. It is both a material site and a speculative realm; unreal yet made real in a collapse of subject-object. It is a fiction and a fictioning, a mode of making, or a Deleuzian sorcery.

My paintings are slow surfaces. They emerge from layering, dry-brushing, and a repeated softening through bleach, faintness, and residue. Yellow recurs akin to a language; it is part of this spell or summoning. Light too is central in this cosmology. It casts, interferes, and refracts to animate a relational imagination.

I think of myself as an apprentice of magic, and more so a weatherman in my writing practice. I write to invite, unravel, forecast and transcribe. Sometimes language builds a system or a world, giving form to method; other times, it arrives as if from the world itself – like an affect or a current.

The Bedland holds these gestures together. It is a kind of site-thinking, a mode of world-building where the imaginary insists on its own materiality. In this, I am concerned with fabulation as a generative method (after Stengers), and with ontology as something not stable but continuously composed – between objects, images, words, and weather (after Simondon).