My work has been described as many things: surreal, expressionist, and evocative. I’ve also heard primitivism, outsider, and “dark.” But, if I could choose only one word to describe my work, it would be survival. I realize this describes neither technique nor aesthetics, but it does sum up the impetus behind nearly two decades of contemporary oil paintings. Some of these pieces are impulsive submissions to the whims of the muses, while others are rich in symbolism and crafted with intentional metaphor. As a trauma survivor and someone who struggles with mental health, my work has acted as a form of both escapism and self-therapy, reflecting the inner world of my journey over the years, thus making the invisible visible, with aims to create connection and a sense of belonging with others, and act as a catalyst for communication.

When I look back at my earliest paintings, I see a series of unintentional self-portraits; melancholy women with expressions of detachment, anxiety, or longing. They are usually in fantastical places and often surrounded with imagery such as spider webs, masks, cages, trees forming patterns like shattered glass, and other elements that suggest a dissociative state of mind. There is a darkness to them, despite colorful palettes and whimsically rendered butterflies. These beautiful creatures in my early works were meant to symbolize Monarch Programming, a method of mind control theorized to be the continuation of project MK Ultra, a subject I had become obsessed with as I struggled to pick up the pieces of my fractured sense of self.

As I grew to understand the impact of the events I had survived, I began to reconnect wires, deprogram unhealthy thinking patterns, and read between the lines of abusive dialogue. It was then that I painted “Phoenix,” the majestic mythical creature who rises from the ashes, and “La Loba,” the woman of ancient legends who sings over wolf bones until they rattle back to life. Butterflies continued to be a prevalent depiction across my inventory, but with renewed symbolism: metamorphosis; rebirth. This theme repeated itself in roots, bones, and various winged creatures; a subconscious attempt to manifest my own transformation through visualization. I dove deeper into studies of psychology and theology, trading out an interest in ‘conspiracy theories’ for one of neuroscience and spirituality. I journeyed through therapy, regular meditation practice, and various wellness efforts, some more conventional than others. I devoured information, clinging to it for survival and regurgitating new revelations into songs and images. My brushwork evolved from tight, controlled lines into a style that relies more on faith in my intuitive instincts.

My newest body of work centers around renewal and communication. Figures bloom and speak with their hands. Some hold writing tools and wear divine crowns of insight, others interact with animals. Loosely rendered botanicals and splintered landscapes unite to form their bodies, creating a sense of connectivity to the world around us while celebrating the beauty of its cycles and seasons, both literally and metaphorically within ourselves. These pieces also pay tribute to those who’ve had the courage, taken the time, and made the sacrifices to communicate their own stories and knowledge so they might travel through time and space to help people like myself survive, and eventually, thrive.