My work begins in a fleeting glimmer,
a quiet gleam, a subtle shimmer,
almost accidental in its rise,
yet absolute before my eyes.
That moment is no simple start;
it is the pulse, the living heart
from which each unfolding thread
moves where unseen forces tread.
the quiet listens, clear and near,
and something unseen starts to steer.
I never know quite what I shape —
the work becomes its own escape.
​
Where colours whisper, soft and deep,
and lines awake from stillness sleep,
a dialogue stirs — weight and thought,
intuition and chance, finely caught.
Matter and emotion weave;
in every work I can perceive
a state of flux, a constant tide
conducted softly, time-supplied.

Between the gesture and the pause,
the pigment shifts, obeys no laws;
the stillness listens, quiet and clear,
to what the work draws near.
I never know quite what I shape,
no predetermined form or drape;
each piece becomes itself alone
through listening to its undertone