I never want my loved ones who are no longer with us to be forgotten, so why should our ancestors? 

 

That’s really where this all started. When I lost someone close to me, someone who shared my love of history, art became a way for me to feel connected to them and to the people and stories that came before. Over time, the work became something I do for myself.

 

I work primarily in watercolor, a medium that is unpredictable and demands patience. The way the paint moves, bleeds, and settles reminds me that memories are not fixed. It shifts, fades, and sometimes reappears in unexpected ways. I paint on mineral ground boards and seal each piece with wax so it can be viewed without glass. I want people to experience the texture of the surface and see the imperfections in my work without a layer of separation. 

 

My background in illustration and digital media taught me to ideate fast and draw fast, but after years of staring at a screen, I wanted something slower and more physical. Watercolor requires flexibility and a willingness to let go of control. I find that beauty often lies within what we can’t control. That’s something I’ve come to value, both in art and in how I think about the past. Through this practice, I try to honor those who came before, not by recreating them and their stories exactly, but by creating a space where they can still be felt.