I finally understand what I’m doing.

For a long time, I kept asking myself what my art is really about.

I would make something, then wonder what it meant. I would start a new series, discover another idea, then wonder how it connected to everything else I had made before.

There always seemed to be so many different things I wanted to talk about — memories, feelings, time, the things I notice during my walks, the objects I find interesting, the strange little thoughts that appear in my head.

At some point, I realised that perhaps these things don't need to be separated.

Maybe the common thread has been much simpler.

I have always been paying attention.

Paying attention to a feeling.
A falling leaf.
A flower by the roadside.
A thought that keeps returning.
A small moment that would otherwise disappear.

And then I make something from it.

The more I thought about this, the more I began to see my art practice differently. Perhaps I don't need to find one subject that I will spend the rest of my life making art about.

Perhaps the practice itself can be the subject.

So I decided to think of my art as an artistic practice of paying attention to being alive.

Not as a theme for one particular series, but as a long-term life project.

I want to keep noticing what it feels like to be here — to have a body, to remember, to wonder, to feel, to lose things, to find things, to grow older, to be moved by something unexpectedly beautiful.

I want to collect these little encounters with being alive and see what they become.

Sometimes they might become an artwork.

Sometimes a photograph.

Sometimes a page in my notebook.

Sometimes just a thought I carry with me for a while.

I don't know exactly where this practice will take me.

And perhaps that's the point.

For now, I just want to keep paying attention.