The still-life has always been more than a bowl of fruit. Rooted in the European masters, it is one of the oldest genres in Western painting, and one of the most misunderstood.

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Far from old-fashioned, it has always been a mirror of contemporary life, reflecting the objects, rituals, and preoccupations of the society that produced it. In that sense, the still-life is less a genre than a practice of attention.

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My work has evolved from a preoccupation with craft and exactitude toward something I'd describe as meditative realism. The technical ambition remains, but it is always in service of something simpler: a sustained narrative inquiry into the experiences we hold in common. The egg on the counter. The glass catching afternoon light. The things we keep, and the things that keep us.