Audrey

I paint the places I’d go if doors worked the way they should — libraries where something small watches you read, groves that remember your name, shelves where every parcel is wrapped for someone specific. My head has always been full of them. This site is what happened when I stopped keeping them to myself.

Everything here begins as ink and watercolor at a candlelit desk, usually late, usually with something warm going cold beside me. The Wisp showed up in the margins of an old sketchbook and refused to leave; it runs the library now, and I mostly do as I’m told.

If a piece finds its way home with you, it carries a little of this place along. That’s the whole idea.