- Uncanny Dreams -
What happens when we fall asleep? Where do we go in the quiet hours? Do we drift into memory, imagination, or something else entirely? Are dreams a kind of alternate reality, a dimension we visit when our waking mind loosens its grip?
Could they be quantum echoes, a hidden layer of reality where time and logic bend, where parallel versions of ourselves flicker in and out of existence? Or are they whispers from people long past, resurfacing in symbols and faces we can’t quite place?
Some believe dreams are where we encounter the divine, others say they’re psychological mirrors, or that they are fragments of other lives, past, future, or simultaneous. Maybe we’re remembering something we were never supposed to forget.
The technical process behind this series involves sculpting and set design for visual reference that echo some of my own dreams. Every detail builds a world that blurs the boundary between waking life and the sleeping surreal. The white-washed setting, the calligraphic messages, the paper-flesh textures, the half-hidden crescent moon, is part of the world I’m building.
The Uncanny
This painting explores the way dreams become a theater for strange and symbolic versions of the people and animals who’ve shaped us, some long gone, others never fully known.
In the dreamworld, these figures return not as they were, but rather as exaggerated, playful, or distorted versions of themselves, carrying the emotional weight of our memories in childlike disguise.
Animals speak, faces blur, and time folds, allowing us to process grief, longing, and transformation through metaphor and imagination.
The work invites viewers into that liminal space, where the subconscious softens hardship with surreal beauty, offering dream-born understanding.
The Uncanny, 9x12’’, oil on panel
$2,100
Shine On
Are you a dreamer just like me? Have you found the ones you’ve been searching for?
This painting is a love letter, a celebration for the moment a person feels seen. Has a person’s love ever made you shine brighter than you saw yourself before? Have you ever felt that love itself makes you more powerful and beautiful? Have you preferred yourself in the way others see you rather than the way you see yourself? Maybe this is why we seek love so often and are broken when it's gone.
The calligraphy acts as a secret language, preserving spur of the moment thoughts that I have. Rather than writing in a traditional journal, I inscribe my emotions directly into my work, turning the surface into a sanctuary where vulnerability is protected by abstraction. The words, often fragmented or obscured, are not meant to be immediately understood. This practice transforms my paintings into both storytelling vessels and emotional safekeeping.
Shine On, 9x12’’ oil on panel
$2,100
Orbit
For many months upon making the transition to pack up my life and move to New York City, I had the same dream over and over again. I kept dreaming of having this strange encounter with a mountain lion. I remember feeling uncomfortable at the thought of looking into the animals eyes. They were intense, unblinking moments that felt both threatening and strangely protective; as if the animal knew it possessed something that I wanted. It was the loudest, silent moment l've ever had in a dream.
In the wild, eye contact is never casual; it's a signal of power, a challenge, or a plea for safety. I wanted to capture the intensity I feel in my dreams towards these powerful creatures in this painting, a way of facing fear head-on. Just like in the dream, where I confronted something primal by staring into the mountain lions eyes, this piece invites the viewer to do the same: to meet whatever they're afraid of without looking away.
Some believe dreams are where we encounter the divine, others say they're psychological mirrors, or that they are fragments of other lives, past, future, or simultaneous. Maybe we're remembering something we were never supposed to forget.
For me, this painting is a reminder to not be afraid of what we are capable of.
Orbit, 48’’ diameter, oil on panel
$36,200
- A Little Less Demure -
A series of paintings that contemplate the absurdity of controlled female roles throughout history by mirroring the characteristics of extreme societal behaviors, from the lavish rococo era, to the surreal nature of motherhood in flamingos.
I traveled to Aruba to visit the birds on this small but beautiful island. This is just the beginning of a wild journey through the tunnels of the brain of a girl who is attracted to all things that are strange. I was able to stand in knee deep water about 12 inches from them as they patted the ground with their skinny and freakishly long legs; looking for food in hidden places. Their eyes are like pearls. They shed often and they quack like swans do. I never saw them fly but they do balance on one leg and fall asleep this way. If you are lucky they will take food from your hand. They are aloof but gentle. They are slow moving and seem to be unfazed by the environment of humans drinking cocktails and spreading lotion on themselves. They are so very pink and oddly enchanting. I was the visitor and they were the hosts and it was a great pleasure to witness their lives.
To Lie with Love
Female flamingos feed their babies crop milk, a substance that resembles blood. They are one of the two birds that actually feed their young milk and they deliver the milk from their beaks. This is an intense looking process. The mother bird will deplete herself of her own pigmentation so her young can transform into the crimson pink that we recognize as the flamingo.
She will remain white until her baby becomes independent and able to eat on their own.
To Lie with Love, 12x12’’ oil on panel
$2,800
The Kind of Red that Fades
There was a time in my life I lingered too long in a place I could not thrive in. I surrounded myself with people that might as well have been strangers to my soul but because they were all I knew of at the time, I resembled their lifestyle. I morphed into something that never felt right, settled for a world that wasn't mine to exist in and one day I woke up and knew I had to go. The pain that follows such an abrupt decision is a form of death for everyone involved. How many of those people still remain? I can count on one hand, not many. The judgment, anger and pain from the souls you are leaving cut deeply no doubt. The lack of empathy and the confusion it may bring others that knew you "well", only reminds you that they did not see you, just as much as you did not see yourself. I chose to paint the humans in this series with their eyes closed for a reason. This serves as a metaphor for how we can voluntarily choose to be blinded; we can check off all the boxes and tell ourselves that "this is what life is, this is how it should be" only to wake up one day and realize it's not yours to live. Oh the consequences that come with such a revelation are painful indeed but they do not compare to the brightness of following your bliss.
The Kind of Red that Fades, 36x48’’ oil on panel
$34,500
Birth Expectations
To me this painting has many representations. One being, the act of giving and how sometimes we can give ourselves away too much and in the process we feel our own selves fade, become less whole, lose our original state of being for the sake of saving or loving others.
My dearest friend just gave birth recently and I have been reflecting on some of the feelings she's felt adjusting to motherhood and breast feeding, so this to me is also about motherhood, a more obvious representation; how a child although so small and innocent can completely deplete us of our normal state. We act as a machine keeping them alive but in the process often neglect our own personal needs as a mother. The beautiful part about this though is as mothers, we wouldn't have it any other way. Nurturing is in our blood, our body our souls, this is natural but often tiresome.
Lastly, l've given this much thought and for me, having not had children of my own yet, I relate this piece to the relationship between human beings and the environment. We humans ask so much of the earth to survive. Is this all natural and are we on the right track?
Is it possible that our the earth may run out of giving because we take so much from it? Or is this all perfectly designed despite what we believe or have scientifically proven? This isn't a topic of fairness and whether or not our actions are out of naivety or carelessness, they have the same consequences still.
We remain children, dependent on the very mechanism that feeds us.
The mother comes in many forms, steadfast in the ability to provide, and glad to do so, but perhaps a little tired from giving herself to you.
Birth Expectations, 36x60’’ oil on panel
$43,200
