There’s a quiet moment in the drawing process—a stillness that comes when charcoal meets paper when a single stroke begins to reveal something deeper. In those early stages, the drawing starts as a whisper. But as the lines build, layer by layer, a memory begins to take shape. Whether it’s a portrait of a pet whose loyal eyes have seen a lifetime of love or the subtle curve of a smile that tells a story of a person’s life, I want my work to do more than just capture an image. I want it to evoke a feeling—a sense of presence, of memory. In a world where so much is fleeting, digital, and transient, I aim to create something that can be held, touched, and experienced in its purest form. Something that’s not just viewed but felt. The act of creating a drawing is an invitation to slow down, to take a moment to breathe and to engage with the process. It’s about being present in the space between the artist and the subject, letting time unfold slowly with every stroke of charcoal. The result is more than a portrait—it’s a moment that’s been frozen, preserved in a way that only a handmade art can achieve. I want the viewer to feel the weight of the paper, the depth of the charcoal, and the life that’s embedded in each image. Because when we slow down and take the time to truly look—whether at an animal’s thoughtful gaze or the subtle emotions of a person—we begin to appreciate the beauty of something that will last, a memory captured forever in the texture of the page