sebstroke

The process is instinctive, often starting with no direction but creation, allowing emotion to shape the work before thought can take place. 

 

The practice lives in the uneasy space between feeling and form, where contradiction is not solved but held. Suffering, absurdity, and fleeting clarity all leak into the work as traces of being. 

 

The work emerges from a persistent, universal melancholy, one I don’t try to define or resolve. It’s not political, not cultural, it’s older than that. 

 

The ongoing search, not for definitive answers, but for a deeper understanding in a world that offers no easy resolution.