About

I was born and raised in the south of France, in quiet villages of Provence surrounded by vineyards, stone villages and centuries of history. But my connection to the North began unexpectedly.

When I was six years old, a traveling library bus came to my school. Inside was a book with a howling wolf standing in a snowy landscape: The Call of the Wild by Jack London.

I was mesmerized by it.

That book transported me into a world completely unlike the one I knew — a world of wilderness, snow, wolves, silence, and vast northern landscapes. The feeling never left me.

As I grew older, that fascination evolved into a deep interest in wildlife biology and wolves. I eventually came to North America intending to pursue the path of becoming a wolf biologist.

After spending time in Yellowstone, I traveled to Alaska in my twenties, and everything changed.

For the first time, I experienced the scale, solitude, and raw beauty of the northern wilderness firsthand. Alaska awakened something permanent in me. It was there that I fell in love not only with wolves, but with the entire world surrounding them — the mountains, winter light, sled dogs, bush planes, silence, and immense untamed landscapes of the North itself.

That pull eventually led me far from Europe and deep into the North — to landscapes where winter is long, distance changes everything and silence defines the land. Alaska awakened something in me that never left.

Before dedicating myself fully to painting, I earned a Master’s degree in wildlife biology and worked in the field across several countries.

In New Zealand I worked as a backcountry ranger. In Canada I tracked grizzly Bears through radio telemetry and monitored wolves through camera surveys and the reading of tracks, and spent extended periods living and traveling through remote wilderness. I also worked around sled dogs in Alberta, BC and Alaska - experiences that continue to shape the way I understand movement, endurance and animal behavior.

I later earned my pilot’s license - not simply for flying itself, but because aviation changes the way the North is experienced. In Alaska, airplanes are access. They change your relationship to scale, weather, remoteness and terrain. Flying allows me to move through the landscapes I want to paint and experience them from within rather than from distance.

Over the last decade, I built a professional career exhibiting work through galleries and shows across the American West while continuing to refine my technical foundation through years of classical study, mentorships, and intensive practice.

In recent years, that pursuit has become increasingly focused: I want to paint the North — its wildlife, atmosphere, silence, winter light and vastness — with depth, structure, and permanence.

I am not interested in simply illustrating wildlife. I want the work to feel inhabited. Lived. Shaped by weather, distance, survival, and time.

Wolves remain at the center of my work, not as symbols to exhaust, but as a presence that continues to reveal itself over years of observation and study. Bears, ravens, moose, eagles, and northern landscapes belong to that same world.

This body of work is not about visiting Alaska. It is about devoting my life to understanding it deeply enough to paint it truthfully.