This series of drawings begins 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, small depressions read as craters. The viewpoint slips: 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. Photographs and glitches, embedded in some pieces, further unsettle the view, hinting at other scales, contexts, and knowledge. These disruptions trouble the drawings’ quiet sublime.

Part of the difficulty of grasping climate change is that it demands we think across immense scales—spatial and temporal. The gradual accumulation of molecules released through ordinary routines—driving to the grocery store, cooling our homes, charging our phones—quietly reshapes how heat moves through the atmosphere, setting planetary transformations in motion.

These drawings linger in that tension between the intimate and the planetary. They move between the ground at our feet and the vast systems that surround it, returning our attention to the fragile present, inviting us to reconsider our 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.