Statement

My work is rooted in emotional vulnerability—both mine and the viewer’s. Each painting begins as a personal excavation: a feeling, a flash of memory, a lyric I can’t shake. The marks evolve from there. What emerges is usually layered, messy, poetic, and sometimes uncomfortable. That discomfort matters to me. It means we’re getting close to something real.

Mental health shows up again and again in my work—not always as the central theme, but always as an undercurrent. Whether through portraits with eyes that hold too much or through smeared-out text that begs to be read but resists clarity, I’m interested in what it means to be seen while staying hidden.

Music, poetry, and storytelling are woven into every piece. I often embed lines from songs or phrases that loop in my head—not as decoration, but as anchor points. These fragments become emotional artifacts. Sometimes they’re legible. Sometimes they’re buried beneath layers of paint, like memories we try to forget but don’t fully erase.

At its core, my work is about recognition. I want people to feel something personal when they stand in front of it—like the painting is holding something they’ve never been able to say aloud. It’s a conversation starter. Not between me and the viewer, necessarily—but between the viewer and their own interior world.

In this next chapter, I’m leaning even further into the personal—embedding more artifacts, more vulnerable truths, more emotional tension. If I’m asking people to connect with my work, I want to meet them there. Fully. Messily. Honestly.