These drawings begin with the snowfall of this past winter, observing the texture, movement, and color of fleeting moments on the ground. They operate as a kind of nearsighted index of the winter landscape. At this scale, mounds become mountains, folds resemble crevasses, and small depressions read as craters. The viewpoint becomes unstable: it is unclear whether we are looking down from high above a planetary surface or crouched close to the ground, our faces inches from the snow.

Part of the difficulty of grasping climate change is that it demands we think across immense scales—both spatial and temporal. The gradual accumulation of molecules released through ordinary routines—driving to the grocery store, cooling our homes with air conditioning, constructing new city blocks—quietly reshapes how heat circulates through the atmosphere, setting planetary transformations in motion. These drawings linger within that tension between the intimate and the planetary. They move between the ground at our feet and the vast systems that surround it, returning attention to the fragile present and inviting viewers to reconsider their place within it.

Pastel offers a tactile, layered process that echoes the material behavior of snow itself. Pigment is built up, blended, and partially lifted away, creating surfaces that register accumulation, erosion, compression, and melt—the same forces that continually remake the winter ground.