This body of work began with a simple shift in perspective, one I learned in Thailand: look down. Not in shame or submission, but in awareness. We move through life so fixated on what’s ahead that we rarely notice what’s beneath us. What are we missing by always looking forward?

These works are drawn from fragments I would have otherwise overlooked, tiles, floor patterns, plants pressed against sidewalks, each one a quiet composition of form and detail. Some were crafted by human hands, others by time, water, and light. All are meticulous in their own way, echoing a kind of geometry that seems to repeat across both nature and culture. Why are we drawn to symmetry? Why do we replicate it? And why do we place so much beauty in places designed to be walked over, worn down, ignored?

Influenced by the delicate precision of Indian miniature painting, I work with materials that demand patience: gold paint, embroidery thread, glass mirror, all on fragile handmade mulberry bark paper. These are not quick gestures. They ask for stillness, for presence. I think the things we overlook often do too.

Look Down is less a directive than a question: What are we stepping over, both literally and metaphorically? What happens when we shift our focus downward, not just with our eyes, but with our attention? Can slowing down become an act of reverence?

This series doesn’t aim to provide answers. It invites wondering. It holds space for quiet things to be seen.