I paint to make sense of things that don’t have easy answers.
Motherhood, memory, grief, faith—these are the threads I follow.
Much of what I create begins with something small or private: a moment, a question, a hurt I haven’t fully named.
I’m constantly drawn to the spaces between story and symbol, between the ordinary and the mythic. Children in Eden. A woman eating dirt. A tree that becomes a mother. I paint to give shape to the invisible, emotional work women do—the metabolizing of pain, the quiet confusion and frustration of parenting, the sacred task of letting go and having faith.
My art is rooted in both the intimate and the imagined. I look to myth, scripture, and history to understand what I haven’t lived, and I allow those stories to speak with my own experience. In that space between worlds, something new takes form.
What I’m making is part prayer, part cry in the wilderness.
A way to hold what’s hard.
A way to grow something from the dirt.
A way to remember who we are.