"My curiosity lies in the relationship between the visible and the invisible, and the point in which these boundaries meet. In my process, it's the moment where unconscious intuition is confronted by conscious intellect. In the image itself, it is where abstraction begins to suggest figuration. It's here where I love to play." ~ Dan Drossman
My paintings begin where the last one dissolves, carrying forward the quiet residue of earlier moments. I photograph each completed piece, cut the image apart, and let its fragments drift into the next work. These remnants behave like memories - appearing unexpectedly, reshaping themselves, whispering new meanings into unfamiliar contexts. At the same time, my gestures emerge from the body: I make marks by listening to my chronic physical pain, letting each line trace tension, pulse, or ache. The surface becomes a field where sensation and recollection meet.
Nothing in this process disappears; everything returns transformed. The forgotten, the buried, the tender, and the uncomfortable all fold themselves into the next layer. My paintings become shifting maps of memory and bodily experience - visual poems about what persists, what resurfaces, and what continues to move through me. Each piece is a breath through time, a record of the past pressing gently into the present.
My work explores the ways memory accumulates within the body and shapes how we experience the present. Influenced by the philosophy of duration and perception, I approach painting as a living archive in which no image exists independently from what came before it. Each work begins with the remains of a previous one: I photograph completed paintings, fragment them, and physically embed those pieces into new compositions. Through this recursive process, every painting contains traces of earlier works, forming an unbroken visual lineage where imagery continually dissolves, reappears, and transforms.
Alongside this material process, I use intuitive mark-making to translate chronic physical pain into gesture. The lines, abrasions, and layered surfaces emerge as bodily responses—records of tension, pressure, and sensation made visible. By repeatedly dismantling and reconstructing my own imagery, I treat memory not as something fixed or nostalgic, but as something active and continually rewritten. The work becomes a negotiation between inheritance and immediacy, absence and persistence, revealing how emotional and physical experiences remain embedded within us over time.
