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I paint because words are too tidy and life just isn’t. It’s layered, textured, messy, bold, quiet, loud,
just like my art.
For years, I tucked parts of myself away. I was busy with life, family, doing all the things that make a good story but leave little room for your own pages. And then one day, I picked up a brush again, to help remember who I was and what I loved that had been pushed aside for so long.
Now, I paint to feel alive and find joy.
Colors helps tell a story, bold, moody colors that shout and whisper at the same time. Texture brings in the feelings from beneath the surface. I let the process carry me, intuitively building layers as I go, letting the painting surprise me. I never know exactly where a piece is going, that’s part of the magic.
My hopes are that someone stands in front of my art and thinks,
“Yes!! That's me... I feel just like that.”
My paintings have my entire heart and soul exposed within them. I want people to feel all the love that I put into each piece. I want people to feel like they are only a small part of a bigger picture that we are all worthy of and belong to.
This isn’t just painting for me.
It’s becoming. It’s freedom.
It’s finally letting my true self take up space,
loud, soft, brave, and beautifully imperfect.
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