Artist Statement: I am a maker, a translator of feeling into form. My art—both visual and written—stems from a deep desire to understand the world, shaped through the lens of personal trauma and a lifelong dialogue with mental health. A flicker of curiosity often deepens into a wrestling with what lies beneath: the chaos, the quiet, the ache, the awe. My creative practice lives in the margins of a full life. I paint and write in stolen hours—often after my small children are asleep—when the house is finally still and my thoughts can surface. Some ideas arrive like gifts: a poem fully formed during a morning commute, or a strange, beautiful turn of phrase from my son’s mouths. Others I have to dig for, clawing them from the mud of fatigue and noise. Either way, I’m always listening—watching the world for moments that shimmer. In my visual work, I’m drawn to vibrant, layered color palettes and intricate, often organic patterns—forms that evoke growth, repetition, and quiet ritual. These paintings offer a sense of tranquility, a kind of visual breath. My writing, in contrast, tends to probe deeper into disquiet—exploring themes like identity, loss, mental fragmentation, and the delicate negotiations of survival. Both mediums invite pause and reflection, encouraging viewers and readers to look inward and consider the tension between vulnerability and strength, between self and surroundings. Currently, I’m exploring how to weave my individual pieces into a larger narrative. I'm in the early stages of assembling a couple chapbooks—ways to thread together the moments, memories, and meditations that echo across my work. My hope is to continue deepening this journey, sharing art that speaks to complexity, resilience, and the strange beauty of being alive.