Growing up transiting countries and cultures, I existed in a world of constant change. I took refuge in order and repetition: sequences of events gave me security, what I could plan, I could handle. Chaos scared me. But as I grew up, I realized my need for order was robbing me of my own voice. I was afraid to step into a void that might swallow me.

My art practice stands in opposition to this. Painting in layers forces me to take pauses to reflect. I can never recreate a painting, which leaves no room for repetition. Abstract art helped me understand myself  and let go of the need to be in control. It helps me embrace who I am - a person full of contrasts who is more beautiful for them.

For me, the experience of creation is both raw and physical. My art practice demands reinvention: meeting myself every day in front of the canvas and using it as a mirror, begging the question: Who am I today? Am I the same as yesterday? If not, then how have I changed?

I am never the same person looking back. Each brush stroke is an exploration of me in that precise moment, a vehicle for the emotions inside, a set of experiences laid down in color and movement. A record of a moment that only I have lived and will never live again.

​As time passes, new techniques arise, some are left in the past, but the essence, my essence, is the same. A sense of identity that is both fixed and transitive. An interior world thrown with force onto a canvas, and sometimes poured lightly. A mirror into my soul.

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