What it took to finally speak the truth behind my art.

How grief turned me into an abstract artist.

Why I painted a woman who refuses to be a mule...

What my grandmother never told me about survival, loss, and the dreams she buried...

You know that feeling when you're deep in your creative flow, completely lost in the work, and everything just clicks?

We've all been there. You're scrolling through Instagram, and suddenly you see that piece. You know the one.

You know those networking mixers where everyone seems to effortlessly glide from conversation to conversation, business cards in hand, talking about their latest gallery show? Yeah, that was my personal nightmare.

Being an artist means living between two extremes: some days you feel like you can conquer the world with your paintbrush, and others you can't even remember why you picked it up in the first place.

For years, I carried the heaviness of growing up in chaos. My family's dysfunction felt like a weight I couldn't shake, and their expectations of who I should be kept me trapped in a version of myself that wasn't really me.

I'd been drawing since I could hold a crayon, but the moment I told my family I wanted to be an artist, they looked at me like I'd just announced I was joining the circus.

You know that voice that whispers "you're not good enough" when you're staring at a blank canvas? That voice is lying.

I recently made a bold decision that, at first glance, may seem unrelated to my life as an artist. I cut my hair.

Every time I pushed past what felt safe, I left a piece of my old scared self behind.

I used to hide my art like it was some embarrassing secret, but then I realized my introversion wasn't something to overcome—it was something to own.

Motherhood is this wild mix of pure love and complete overwhelm, and I'm still learning how to hold space for both my art and my baby without feeling like I'm failing at everything.

As an artist, stay-at-home mom, and someone trying to build an art business, I spend most days feeling like I'm pulled in seventeen different directions at once.