I pour. Gravity does the rest. Every piece on these walls began as liquid pigment and ended as something I couldn’t have planned if I tried — a record of the quiet negotiation between color, motion, and chance. Acrylic pouring is the only thing I make, and after years of chasing the next cell, the next ribbon, the next impossible curl of paint, I’m still surprised every time the canvas dries. These are the ones worth sharing.