The work begins somewhere specific — a sentence overheard, an image already exact in the mind before the materials are chosen, an emotion demanding a particular surface. It does not begin with style.
Across more than three decades, the refusal to settle into a recognisable aesthetic has been deliberate. Not inconsistency, but the condition of remaining alive to the work. Conformity as a working method goes dead. Each piece emerges from a specific internal prompt rather than a commitment to an established visual language.
Before anything is read, the work asks first for reaction — odd beauty, discomfort, superficial attraction, visual tension. Sometimes direct, sometimes intentionally deceptive in its simplicity.
The surface is the first fact, not the deception.
Then the title arrives, if there is one. And the title becomes a problem. It captures the viewer inside a controlled perspective, narrowing the space beyond it. Meaning risks becoming fixed too early.
Untitled offers the furthest point of freedom — though even that is a decision that asks something in return:
Why untitled?
What would you have called it instead?
Was the artist unsettled, or simply refusing to lock the door ?
DEXTA MEGA