Why I Create: Finding Myself in the Mess

I’ve been doodling for as long as I can remember — on notebooks, scrap paper, whatever I had nearby. People used to tell me I should pursue art more seriously, but I never really believed I was good enough. Honestly, I still wrestle with that feeling sometimes.

Art wasn’t something I chased intentionally. It showed up when I needed it most — especially when I started working in the world of anti-human trafficking. I work with a nonprofit that trains law enforcement and advocates for those affected by trafficking. It’s heavy work. It’s heartbreaking, beautiful, frustrating, and hopeful all at once. And with all of those emotions living inside me, I needed somewhere to put them. That somewhere became a canvas.

My artistic style is imperfect — mostly contemporary, always evolving. I don’t have formal training, just a lot of learning through watching artists I admire, trying new things, and making mistakes. Trial and error, and sometimes trial by fire. My process usually begins with a plan, but once the paint hits the canvas, it becomes something else. I build up textures and base layers while reflecting on whatever I’m carrying in that moment. It’s never clean or polished at first — and neither are my emotions.

I work mostly with acrylic because it lets me move quickly and change things as I go. I also use charcoal pencils and oil pastels, and I’ve been slowly exploring oil paint and other mediums. There’s something about mixing techniques that mirrors how life actually feels: layered, messy, uncertain — and sometimes unexpectedly beautiful.

This blog doesn’t have a strict direction yet. It’s going to be more like a diary — a behind-the-scenes look at the creative process, the emotional weight behind certain pieces, and the journey of someone still figuring it out. I’m not here to present something perfect. I’m here to be honest.

More than anything, I hope that as you explore my art and read my words, you feel a little more seen. Because I know what it’s like to feel like no one understands what you’re carrying — especially when you’re working in spaces that most people don’t talk about. Through my work, I’m learning to express what I can’t always say. And maybe, just maybe, someone else will feel less alone in the process.

Thanks for being here. Really.