Once I danced with my Flames, I became Still Water
I never planned to become an artist. I am first a mom, a lioness. For years, I was the teacher, the mentor, the fighter. I led classrooms and movements, carried the stories of others, and stood at the front lines of pain.
Then, one day in 2021, without training or a plan, I picked up a brush. It wasn’t a hobby.
It was something buried erupting into light — a voice I didn’t know I had, whispering: I’ve been waiting.
My art is where silence goes to speak. Where memory returns in fragments — not in words, but in colors, shapes, symbols.
I paint emotionally driven surreal and abstract works, where the visible and invisible meet. Each canvas is a mirror and a map. Of trauma and tenderness, of wildness and womanhood, of stories too deep for language.
When I was a child, my father used to take me fishing at sea and to forest camps, where he would make me swings between trees. Swings crafted from an old gray blanket that always lived in the back of the car, waiting for those moments.
In those moments, I felt held.
Today, I paint trees to remember what my mind has forgotten.
I am the trunk — rooted in longing, reaching for sky. My children are my canopy, the magnificent treetop above me.
But I am rootless.
So I paint to reclaim the roots I never had. To ground myself in color, in memory, in creation.
And then there are the mushrooms.
They arrived on my canvas without explanation — symbols of womanhood, fertility, the sacred beneath the surface. Mushrooms know how to grow from the dark. From decay.
They connect everything through hidden threads, like the scarlet thread I weave through my life and my art.
These are not illustrations. They are declarations. Of what aches. Of what heals. Of my and everyone else’s duality.
Of what was once buried — and now dares to be seen. So, I’m happy your’e here to see.. Enjoy!