Before I was a painter, I was an engineer. I spent years working within systems — designing them, testing their limits, understanding what they could hold and where they would fail. That training never left me. It simply moved into the studio.

I build. I construct. I deconstruct. I overpaint. This is not a method so much as a disposition: an ongoing negotiation between order and flow. There is something I have spent my whole life trying to square — these two things that do not resolve, that cannot be forced into agreement, and that I keep returning to anyway. The grid, the structure, the underlying system — these are not things I use and discard. They are the condition of everything that comes after. And the working against them is equally necessary.

I have lived between cultures, between countries, between languages. Each has its own order, its own logic, its own way of organising what matters. Moving between them means feeling the edges of systems — where one grid ends and another begins, where there is no equivalent, where you have to find your own footing. I did not always know that this was in the paintings. I could see it only later, when the work showed me.

I am a painter working between The Hague and France. My practice is abstract, organised into three ongoing series — Losing the Grid, Setzkasten, and Balancing on the Windowsill — each one a different encounter with structure and what resists it.

Geography matters to how I work. In France, things dissolve through warmth and gesture. In the Netherlands, through light and drift. Both are forms of the same inquiry.

My influences are Franz Kline, Willem de Kooning, and Joan Mitchell — painters for whom the canvas was not a statement made in advance but a conversation in progress. I think of painting the same way. I am building something, and undoing it, and finding out what it was in the process.

I studied at Vrije Kunstacademie Haarlem and Freie Akademie für Malerei, Düsseldorf.  I work independently.