I draw the trees in the dark. But the drawings are not just representations of what I see: I try to translate what my dog senses and follows: subtle movements, fleeting presences, microscopic tremors in the middle of the night. Each mark is an attempt to record the unseen—the way the forest breathes, the tension that hangs in the darkness, the faint pulse of things just beyond my perception.

(Seven of these drawings are hanged alongside the Self-Portrait-Automata series, called Monas)