Every stroke reflects not only what I saw, but also what I felt.
These sketches are a collection of moments gathered through observation rather than intention. Created across different places, seasons, and stages of my life, they document more than landscapes and buildings… They preserve the experiences, emotions, and ideas that emerged while I paused long enough to truly see them.
The Misunderstood Berry
Drawn during a field visit for the Fuller Studio research project, this sketch captures a berry shrub I encountered while collecting plant samples for herbarium presses at a farm near campus. We had paused from our work to sit quietly and sketch, a small moment of observation amidst research.
I remember being drawn to this plant because of how vibrant and inviting it appeared, only to learn that it was considered a weed. That contradiction stayed with me. How can something so beautiful and giving be reduced to a label?
Our research was conversations around Spontaneous Urban Plants (SUPs), species that emerge without deliberate cultivation and are frequently dismissed as unwanted. These plants challenge conventional ideas of what belongs in a landscape and raise deeper questions: What makes a species native? Who decides which plants are valued and which are removed?
A place worth the Pause
This drawing was made during a visit to a Japanese garden near Klamath Falls. What first appeared to be a carefully composed landscape gradually revealed itself as a lesson in balance.
It was a pleasant summer afternoon after a hearty meal at a nearby park when I decided to pause and sketch my surroundings. As I drew, I became less interested in recreating the scene and more interested in understanding how it felt. With the movement of water and the rhythm of the breeze, my appreciation for nature deepened and quietly kindled the ecological curiosity that continues to shape my work today. I found myself not just documenting the landscape, but immersing my senses in its calmness.
Perhaps art is not only about capturing what we see, but also about preserving what we feel, a fleeting connection to a place that continues to resonate long after we leave.
A Garden That Felt Like Home
This sketch was made on my birthday in the backyard of a close friend's family home. Having just finished my final exams a few days earlier, I had decided to spend the evening slowing down, sharing cake, preparing s'mores, and enjoying the company of people who had welcomed me as family.
What captivated me most was the garden. It wasn't meticulously arranged or perfectly curated; instead, it felt wonderfully organic. Every corner reflected the care of my friend's mother, whose love for gardening was evident in the plants she had nurtured over the years. Nature plays the same role; it does not strive for perfection; it grows, adapts, and finds its own rhythm.
As an architect, I often think about how spaces create a sense of belonging. That evening, I realized that home is not always defined by walls or ownership, but by the people, memories, and landscapes that make us feel connected. I couldn't think of a better way to preserve that feeling than through a sketch.
The Space Between
This sketch captures a quiet pause along the Millrace, where the pathway bridges the stream connecting the University of Oregon to the Willamette River. During the summer, I often found myself walking here to escape the studio, breathe fresh air, and reconnect with the landscape around me.
As both an artist and an architect, I have come to appreciate these in-between spaces. They remind us that meaningful design is not always about grand gestures or iconic structures, but about creating moments that encourage us to pause, observe, and simply be present.
Belonging to the Landscape
This sketch was made at Clearwater Park in the summer of 2026, shortly after my graduation. It had been a long time since I had paused to sketch. I had originally come to the river simply to soak my feet, but instead found myself sitting on the rocks with my sketchbook, letting the afternoon unfold around me.
The day was pleasantly cool for summer. Birds skimmed low across the water while families gathered along the riverbank to swim, laugh, and escape the heat. It wasn't silent, but it was the kind of sound that belonged to the place, a reminder that people, too, are part of the living landscape.
For a brief moment, the distinction between people and the ecosystem seemed to disappear. The flowing river, the voices in the distance, the birds overhead, and my own quiet presence all felt connected, existing within the same rhythm.
This drawing is a reflection of that realization: that perhaps our greatest relationship with nature is not found in separation, but in belonging.
The River Remembers
This sketch was made at Fuller Overlook Farm in Pennsylvania. If you look closely and compare it to my other intricate drawings of trees with dense foliage, you'll notice that these trees are bare, reflecting a different season. If you guessed late fall or early spring, you're probably right.
It was a cold afternoon, and we even experienced a light drizzle, which didn't make pausing to sketch any easier. I remember blowing warm air into my hands just to keep them warm while I desperately tried to capture the moment. Despite the cold, the water continued to flow. Somehow, the only sounds I could hear were the flowing water and the quiet stillness of the landscape that led into a dense trail ahead. Sometimes nature speaks most clearly when it appears at rest.
The Overlooked Entrance
I made this sketch while working on a studio project that involved the redevelopment of the architecture building. Surprisingly, one of the main ideas for the project emerged while drawing this very view.
This was the back entrance to the building, often overlooked, yet it had a different charm to it. It connected directly to the campus quad, home to some of the oldest trees at the university. Although it wasn't the most commonly used pathway, it was one of the most beautiful. To me, it felt like something worth celebrating rather than hiding.
As I paused to sketch this space, I began to see it differently. It inspired the concept of celebrating the quad and reimagining the building's retrofit in a way that transformed this overlooked entrance into the primary gateway to the campus.
This sketch reminds me that drawing is more than a way of documenting a place. It is a way of observing, questioning, and discovering ideas that might otherwise go unnoticed. Sometimes, simply taking the time to pause and sketch can lead to stronger and more meaningful design concepts.