I make with watercolors, inks, acrylics, found objects, graphite, threads, fabric, lace, stickers, papers, metal, anything that makes sense to what's being created, because everything is connected, and there are many, many ways to tell a story. I am self-taught, following my instincts, my gut, my intuition. I have a hyperactive brain and it just won't stop finding patterns, seeing between lines, passing through worlds. It cannot be just one thing, it has to be many things, many colors, many textures, yet every bit it true. I have no single medium, and I mix words with my art.  I am not good with precision, but I like play between elements and layers. I often spill over, leave stains and marks, mess up, make mistakes, make do.

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But within all that chaos is some kind of inner order. Reassuring links between thoughts and ideas and fragments of fairy tales. There is meaning. There is even purpose. There is a lot of love hiding in plain sight. And hope. Hope is everflowing, ever-present. It is how I am still alive even when I have gone through moments of not wanting to wake up anymore. 

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Explore. Discover. Find something you never expected you needed.