Work

Every painting is a search for equilibrium.

The Italian word capochiave refers to the visible anchor plates that stabilize historic buildings throughout Venice. Though modest in appearance, they hold opposing forces in balance, allowing architecture to endure across centuries.

When I first began noticing these forms while walking through Venice, I realized they described something I had been searching for in painting all along. They were not merely architectural details but visual expressions of order, rhythm, and restraint.

In my paintings, the capochiave become compositional anchors. They do not decorate the surface; they organize it. Their placement establishes cadence, creates relationships between forms, and guides the eye toward a state of equilibrium. Printed images of New York doors and façades become the foundation upon which oil paint, memory, and intuition are layered until the work transcends its source.

The paintings are not about repair in the literal sense. They are about the quiet strength that allows things to endure. They ask how beauty emerges from tension, how order arises from complexity, and how painting can offer stillness in an increasingly distracted world.

For me, the capochiave is both an architectural device and a philosophy of painting: every element matters, every placement carries weight, and every painting is a search for equilibrium.