Creating my alcohol ink paintings is a wild, intuitive dance between control and surrender. Unlike traditional painting, I never touch the paper with a brush. Instead, I guide highly pigmented alcohol-based inks across slick sheets of Yupo paper using air—sometimes through a straw, sometimes a burst of breath, other times with a heat gun or gentle movement. It's painting through motion, not pressure.
The materials themselves are alive with energy. The inks bloom and explode with color the moment they meet the alcohol, creating organic shapes that can’t be replicated or reined in. I use isopropyl alcohol and blending solutions to push, dilute, and redirect the pigment—like coaxing emotion across a canvas without ever laying a finger on it.
What starts as chaos slowly takes shape. Each piece is born from a place of emotional release, often during times when words fail me. The process becomes a meditation on letting go: of perfection, of control, of expectation. I chase vibrancy, movement, and contrast—letting the piece unfold in its own time, its own way.
Every painting is both a release and a revelation. You’ll find no pencil sketches, no plans—just color, breath, and a fierce commitment to trusting the process. In a way, it’s not me creating the art. It’s the ink, the air, the moment—and I just listen closely enough to follow.
Creating my alcohol ink paintings is a wild, intuitive dance between control and surrender. Unlike traditional painting, I never touch the paper with a brush. Instead, I guide highly pigmented alcohol-based inks across slick sheets of Yupo paper using air—sometimes through a straw, sometimes a burst of breath, other times with a heat gun or gentle movement. It's painting through motion, not pressure.
The materials themselves are alive with energy. The inks bloom and explode with color the moment they meet the alcohol, creating organic shapes that can’t be replicated or reined in. I use isopropyl alcohol and blending solutions to push, dilute, and redirect the pigment—like coaxing emotion across a canvas without ever laying a finger on it.
What starts as chaos slowly takes shape. Each piece is born from a place of emotional release, often during times when words fail me. The process becomes a meditation on letting go: of perfection, of control, of expectation. I chase vibrancy, movement, and contrast—letting the piece unfold in its own time, its own way.
Every painting is both a release and a revelation. You’ll find no pencil sketches, no plans—just color, breath, and a fierce commitment to trusting the process. In a way, it’s not me creating the art. It’s the ink, the air, the moment—and I just listen closely enough to follow.