My Story

A Box, a Blanket, and a Sense of Safety

A giant empty cardboard box sat in the middle of our apartment in Queens. My mom, who loved the arts, left it to me to get creative with it. This box could fit my whole six-year-old little self in it. I got my art supplies, climbed in, and began covering every inch. I drew on it, painted it, and when it was fully covered with my designs, proudly signed my name to it. Then I hung a blanket over the edge to make a door. While I was in this little fortress, everything else faded into the background. I loved that box for the week or so I had it before it was gone. I wasn't just playing and being creative; I was building and decorating my own space that gave me a sense of security.

Growing Up With the Ground Shifting

In my hand-painted box house, I felt empowered, probably because I spent so much time as a kid feeling the ground shifting under my feet. My dad, who has passed on to the other side, unfortunately, struggled with issues that often made our home unstable. Though he loved me to the best of his ability, and I loved him dearly, my upbringing involved a lot of highs and lows, chaos, unpredictability, and walking on eggshells. Art always made me feel happier. I craved drawing, painting, and building things because, in retrospect, I was turning inward to a place where I felt safe and in charge for a tiny bit of time. I had no words to express it then, but art had an ability to shed light into the darkness around me.

Searching in the Wrong Places

I carried a longing for wholeness into my teen years. Growing up, I was deeply loved by my mom and close to her, but it didn't erase the surrounding dysfunction that shaped how I saw myself and the world. I became externally focused and just wanted to rebel, escape, and fill the emptiness. I was desperate to feel something, anything other than trapped. I developed a pattern of chasing the wrong things, hoping they would make me feel right. Drawn to superficial dead-end roads to soothe my discomfort, I lacked awareness of what even drove my choices. I just often felt discontent, disconnected, wild, and messy.

A Companion Through the Noise

Art never left me, though I was running from myself at full speed. Painting remained a companion, something I regularly turned to to express and calm my emotions. It brought me relief in a world where I struggled to find a voice, an identity, and a sense of purpose. I remember in high school, my AP art teacher, Charlie, whom I loved, would tell me, "You have a natural gift, kid. You need to do something with it." I could barely hear him over the noise in my head. I loved art and the feeling it gave me, but I was wandering in a maze with no direction. Nothing at that time was likely to truly save me. You can't change what you can't see. I didn't even know I was lost.

Finally Facing It

I continued painting beyond my high school and college years, but my self-destructive patterns continued as I ironically expected to feel whole. While I had always dreamed of selling a piece of my art one day, I was too consumed with finding happiness outside myself to pursue art full-time. After much heartache, pain, and disillusionment, I got to a place where I just couldn't deny it anymore. I wasn't happy. I didn't want to live my life looking for the next person, place, or thing to make me whole, and so, I sought help. I received a lot of support to do the work it takes to experience an inner transformation. It didn't happen alone, and it didn't happen overnight.

A New Way of Living

Facing what I had spent years trying to numb and avoid was a long and uncomfortable process. As my eyes opened and I became more self-aware, I began to have a new appreciation for living, for my art, and for what it had nudged me toward all along: going deeper within for the answers instead of searching for them outside myself. Getting sober drastically helped me change the way I understood myself and my past. The process was challenging and far from linear, but it was, honestly, one of the best things that ever happened to me. Changing requires rigorous honesty, humility, self-awareness, and a willingness to rebuild from the inside out. Finding a new way of living allowed me to start creating and selling my art from a totally different mindset. I believe once I became conscious of my purpose beyond escape and survival, I finally began to evolve with intention as an artist.

Becoming a Mother

Having children was another profound, life-changing experience that made me think deeply about the mother I wanted to be for my kids. I wanted my children to grow up different from the way I did, and I was determined to grow beyond what I had seen and replicated. I am extremely close with my kids, and the most meaningful parts of my life are the moments I share with my daughter and son. They truly inspire me to be a better person. Whether we are riding bikes along the boardwalk in Long Beach or traveling to another country together, I would say our agreed-upon family philosophy is to have gratitude and be passionately committed to what gives your life true meaning.

Letting the Work Be Seen

Living with a sense of gratitude and purpose is what finally allowed my art to leave the private shelter it had lived in for so many years. Painting used to be a place where I reclusively hid, but opening up and sharing my work became a natural extension of change. Selling my originals and seeing people connect with them has been a beautiful gift. It turns out the energy I pour onto a canvas matches the unspoken feelings of complete strangers. Watching someone choose to take a piece of that spirit into their own home and let it become part of their daily life is a profound form of connection. It shows me that through art, I can bring light into someone else's space, too.

Where I Am Now

The desire to create has been with me through every stage of my existence. Looking back now, I think so much of my art has been tied to craving spiritual meaning and to understanding who I am beneath the surface, beyond superficial labels and distractions all around us. The belief that external things alone cannot fully satisfy the soul or bring lasting peace lives in my work. It almost feels as though painting was trying to guide me toward that lesson long before I could articulate it.

Because I view life as sacred and fleeting, I am committed to spending my days loving, growing, and engaging with the world as my best self. As an artist, I strive to create from a space of authenticity and alignment with my core values. While I am far from perfect, I am dedicated to the ongoing evolution of my character. I don't claim spiritual perfection by any means, because I recognize that self-improvement is a daily, lifelong practice. At the end of the day, though, my truth is that being fulfilled comes from spiritual connection and living as best I can in harmony with God's will. My art is the outward expression of that internal realization. I think that is what I have been searching for all along.