Vulnerability is central to my practice, both as a subject and as a method of uncovering what has been hidden. Growing up in predominantly white spaces, I became preoccupied with what it means to be truly seen, by both ourselves and others. Core aspects of myself, my cultural roots, my spirituality, and my sensitivity, were often kept private, even from the people closest to me. This habitual, almost subconscious concealment shaped the lens through which I related to the world, and my work has become a means of reclaiming what was silenced.

My paintings have become the place where I can return to the moments that shaped me profoundly but were never spoken. Among them was my experience with leukemia as a teenager, and a transformative journey to Mexico where I participated in an ayahuasca ceremony guided by my aunt, a shaman. She represents a living link to the spiritual and cultural dimensions I had previously kept separate from my life in the United States.

Through this experience, I began to engage more fully with my own personal mythology, exploring vulnerability, transformation, and spiritual awakening, and how these threads might be translated into visual form. These touchstones continue to shape my relationship to thresholds, not as isolated events, but as interconnected states of transition.

The recent passing of my father has added new layers of reflection, intimacy, memory, and presence to my work. I am investigating how absence and personal moments can coexist within a single image, resonating beyond the immediate and becoming part of a larger, luminous continuum. This lens does not pathologize or resist experience; it treats life's moments, whether joyful, intense, or tragic, as spaces to inhabit and witness. My work aims to translate lived reality into worlds that feel both strange and familiar, holding tension, beauty, and emotional depth while honoring vulnerability, survival, and spiritual continuity.