My practice operates through accumulation rather than reduction. I am interested in how meaning forms through the coexistence of layers, visual, linguistic, material, cultural, and historical, rather than through refinement toward a singular outcome. I linger in the space between definitive choices, where contradiction is not resolved but sustained. This is not a refusal to decide, but a deliberate methodology that allows complexity to remain intact. Rather than treating clarity, efficiency, or legibility as universal goals, my work questions how those values are constructed, for whom they are designed, and what is lost when ambiguity is erased.
Central to this inquiry is my understanding of ornament not as embellishment, but as a fundamental mode of thinking. Ornament functions in my work as structure, logic, and language. Pattern, repetition, density, and visual excess are not applied after meaning is formed; they are mechanisms through which meaning emerges. Ornament holds memory, pedagogy, and affect. It encodes cultural knowledge that is often carried through hands, bodies, and materials rather than through formalized systems. In this sense, ornament is neither secondary nor decorative, it is epistemological. It teaches, insists, and reorients perception.
This position stands in opposition to dominant modernist legacies that frame ornament as excess and reduce design to pure function or neutrality. I am interested in how such frameworks have historically delegitimized modes of making rooted in craft, tradition, and communal knowledge, particularly those tied to non-Western or feminized practices. My work resists the assumption that restraint equals rigor, or that clarity guarantees transparency. Instead, I treat visual density and complexity as deliberate strategies: ways to preserve nuance and allow multiple readings to coexist.
Typography and language are central to this approach. While letterforms are often understood as tools for efficient communication, I question the expectation that they must always prioritize legibility. I am interested in moments when language becomes unstable and fractures across translation, memory, or cultural difference. In these spaces, opacity becomes expressive rather than dysfunctional. Illegibility can reveal emotional weight, cultural distance, or historical rupture. Language itself is never fully transparent; it is shaped by systems of power, access, and exclusion. My typographic work embraces this instability, allowing form to communicate beyond semantic clarity.
My practice consistently engages with inherited systems of language, form, technique, and tradition while refusing to treat them as static or untouchable. Heritage, for me, is not fixed content to be preserved unchanged, but a living structure that shifts as it is carried forward. I am equally concerned with systems that have been marginalized or erased and with those that are carefully preserved and canonized. In both cases, I ask how design can responsibly activate these systems without flattening their complexity or reducing them to aesthetic reference. Ornament becomes a way to mediate this tension, allowing history to surface through material presence rather than symbolic shorthand.
Materiality plays a crucial role in how these ideas are realized. My work rarely exists only on screen; it manifests through physical forms such as publications, prints, and objects. I am drawn to processes that emphasize tactility and slowness: folding, layering, repetition, and translation between digital and material outputs. These processes foreground the body and the hand, situating design as an embodied act rather than a purely visual one. At the same time, I am invested in how these tactile forms can be translated into contemporary visual languages, negotiating between precision and irregularity.
Across my practice, I resist binary thinking: function versus expression, clarity versus ambiguity, art versus design, tradition versus contemporaneity. These oppositions are not problems to solve but conditions to work within. By holding them together, I am able to explore hybridity as a resource rather than a compromise. This “in-between” space allows my work to remain fluid, interdisciplinary, and responsive, drawing simultaneously from design rigor, craft sensitivity, artistic exploration, and archival responsibility.
I understand graphic design as a form of stewardship. Design shapes how knowledge circulates, how histories are remembered, and how identities are made legible or obscured. It is never neutral. My practice is guided by a responsibility to care for cultural knowledge while allowing it to evolve. Through accumulation, ornament, and contradiction, I aim to create forms that can hold memory while generating new meaning, forms that resist singular readings and instead invite sustained engagement.
Ultimately, I am interested in creating new modes of legibility and resonance that are not bound by one discipline, one language, or one identity. By embracing complexity rather than resolving it, my work treats hybridity as a generative force. It is within these layered tensions that design and cultural understanding find room to expand.