Several years ago, I lost a close friend to cancer. Before she passed, she told me she had mailed me a package—one that never arrived. I don’t know if it was ever sent. I sometimes think it was her way of leaving something open between us, something unresolved but alive.

That missing package stayed with me. It became the starting point for this series of works—an exploration of latent messages, the kind that don’t always reach us but still shape how we remember and relate. I titled the series Here Is Your Letter as a quiet reply to what never came.

I begin most pieces with a single typographic mark—pulled from digital font packs or obscure Unicode characters—that has no clear meaning but feels significant. From there, I build the surface using ink, acrylic, coffee, and other materials, letting the texture and gesture take over. These marks are often layered until they become something between writing and drawing, readable and erased.

Sometimes I translate actual letters—old correspondence or texts from theology and theory—into fonts that remove their legibility. What’s left is the impression of a message, stripped of clarity but filled with intent. I want these works to hold that space where language breaks down but something still comes through.

Each piece is a gesture toward what was never fully said. A response to silence. A record of trying. They are fragments of communication that may never land, but still carry weight—like an unsent letter you hold on to anyway.