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The fields have always been a part of me, the way they roll and breathe, the way the light falls differently depending on the sky. Buried within the layers are papers, marks, and collaged elements that echo what you might actually find out on the land: traces of human presence, weather, and time. A collaged shape on the horizon suggests something, a structure, perhaps a barn, perhaps a house. The kind of thing that has always belonged to this landscape. What emerged was something familiar: golden fields moving beneath a gathering storm, the wind alive in every mark. My process is layered and intuitive. Some of what's here was intentional. Some of it just arrived. But the marks, the fragments, the things I pressed into this surface, they carry an energy that is entirely mine.