i never set out to be an artist in the traditional sense. i had no formal training, no grand plan — just a deep, restless urge to express something i couldn’t quite put into words. in a small, quiet studio, i began to paint. not to impress anyone, but to understand myself.

each stroke came from instinct, from emotion, from a place i can’t fully describe. i wasn’t following rules — i was following a feeling. over time, i realized that others could feel it too. they saw pieces of their own stories in my work — their stillness, their chaos, their unspoken truths.

my art has traveled far, found new homes, and sparked new conversations. but at its core, it always returns to the same place — that quiet room, that honest moment, that need to listen to what can’t be said.

i don’t paint to be heard.
i paint to remember who i am — and to help others do the same.