For the duration of my three-month residency at La Cité, the initial project was intended to explore language and the influence of both French and English on our visual understanding of the world. However, after living in Paris for the past six months, this focus has shifted. Originally conceived as a study of Paris through words and phrases, the project has evolved into an exploration of the city through its people and the situations that unfold within it.

It wasn’t until I began experiencing Paris firsthand that I found myself drawn to what I saw as the two key characters in the theatrical spectacle of this city: its architecture and its people. Like the ever-recurring conflict between two protagonists in a play, it is often suggested that you cannot have one without the other. Lady Macbeth is incomplete without Macbeth, just as Romeo cannot exist without Juliet. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde define each other through their duality, while Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty sharpen each other’s genius. These characters are not merely counterparts but necessary forces that drive the narrative forward. Similarly, Paris is shaped by both its physical spaces and the lives that unfold within them.

From this realization, my focus shifted to capturing the immediacy of this dance between the two driving forces of the city. Drawing books and sketching became essential tools in this process, allowing me to document fleeting moments and ephemeral interactions. Rather than aiming for exact representations, my drawings sought to capture the emotions they evoked. To keep pace with the rhythm of the city, the drawings were often made quickly—not to capture precise details, but 

to convey the transient feeling they inspired. A breeze of wind through a flag. A smile from a stranger. The sun breaking through a crack in a window. The scent left on a jacket borrowed from a friend. A translation of life onto the surface. What I see and the crossovers. What the heart notices. More than that—life as it happens.

The soft sound of bells in the distance as the clock strikes the hour, blending into the city’s din as the week comes to a close. Enclosed in a sunset from a sun that has become foreign in the long weeks of winter. The excitement of anticipation. What the night will bring. Social. Meeting. Indulgence. Laughing. Love. Sex. Connection.
Things happening that you didn’t know could. Doing things you never thought you would. A conversation that could change everything. Discomfort. Comfort in strangers who have now become familiar. Connection.
A breath of a cigarette shared with an unexpected acquaintance—someone who just happened to be standing next to you while the others rushed inside, escaping the cold once their cigarettes were finished.
Connection.
A rosy nose from the winter wind. Warm insides despite the cold. Heat emanating from the core at the slightest touch in the right place.
Connection.
A side-eye you’re sure you understand. A stare that lingers longer than a passing glance should.
Connection.
The corner of a mouth slightly bending upward, hinting at a hidden smile. Secrets others should know. Secrets they don’t. Secrets they never should.
Connection.

Language barriers that leave everyone speaking with a funny accent.

Translating these sketches into paintings is where reality begins to blur. The goal is not mere representation but an extraction of the fantastical nature of these moments, emphasizing their emotional resonance. Since my time at La Cité began in January, my practice has entered a new phase, fueled by the experience of being in an unfamiliar city. In the past, my work often began with a clear vision of its outcome. Now, there is no certainty about what lies on the other side of the creative process. This shift mirrors the uncertainty of relocating to a new country—embracing the unknown rather than fearing it. Instead of viewing this as a "clean slate," I see it as a surface upon which anything is possible.

The paintings begin to inform themselves. Structured like the building of a house, the initial painting always starts with a rough idea, lifted from the pages of the sketchbook. From here, the ‘theme’ or mood is set, leading to deeper consideration of what is actually happening in and around the scene. Further investigation into the sketch may follow, introducing color and shape—somewhat akin to the concrete foundations of a house. Yet, even with the foundations laid, the structure can still change dramatically. Perhaps the builder runs out of money, the house is abandoned, and a new house (a new idea) emerges on top of it. Or the frame goes up, only for a storm to turn it completely upside down—at which point I might physically flip the canvas 180 degrees. Or perhaps the use of a typical builder is abandoned entirely, and instead, a new structure is erected using found materials on-site—using the previously formed shapes on the canvas to create new shapes that weren’t present in the initial idea.

At every stage, the work remains open to transformation. But what has been most compelling during this time is the bulldozer—the moment when the initial house is almost completely disregarded and a new house takes its place. Almost completely—because remnants of the previous structure always remain, buried beneath the layers of the new idea.

Overall, this intimate study of Paris has been an essential step in my artistic practice. More than that, it has connected me to ways of working and living that are rooted in a deep reliance on faith. While not overtly religious or tied to a singular deity, faith has become a driving force in establishing a connection to the unknown. Faith that a step in the wrong direction is not a mistake but a detour. Faith that moving deeper into an unfamiliar place will yield unfamiliar results.

Although this is a steep deviation from the original residency project, it feels limiting to make any conclusive assumptions about Paris itself. My goal was never to find answers or assume I could define what the city is. My goal was to ask questions. In truth, my goal was to be swallowed by the city—to find myself deep within it and then hold my breath as I try to claw my way out. One of the only conclusions I have arrived at is that prescribing a project that assumes an understanding of a place is misguided. I will never have dominion over this city or its people. I am merely an observer, and hopefully, a contributor. Through these paintings, I can only hope that I come close.