Once I danced with my Flames, I became Still Water
I never planned to become an artist. First and foremost, I am a mother. A lioness.
For years I was a teacher, an educator, a fighter.
I led classrooms and movements, carried the stories of others,
and stood on the frontlines of pain.
Then one day, in 2021 — with no training and no plan — I picked up a brush.
It wasn’t a hobby. It was an eruption from within.
As if something deep inside had been waiting for me to finally find it — something ancient, primal — that burst into the light, took on a life of its own, and then swept me away with it. A voice I never knew I had whispered to me:
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
My art is the place where silence finds a voice. Where memory returns in fragments — not in words, but in colors.
I paint fantasy, abstraction, and emotional surrealism,
where the seen and the hidden meet.
I love to play with what is revealed and what lies beneath the surface.
Like a web that connects everything — my scarlet thread.
Each canvas is both a mirror and a map — to trauma and tenderness, to light and shadow, to wildness and womanhood, to stories buried too deep to be spoken, that must be released into the world. From me — outwards, and back again.
Like a prayer carried in the air, waiting for its address.
When I was a child, my father used to take me fishing by the sea and on picnics in the forests.
There, among the trees, he would hang a swing for me — made from an old gray blanket that always waited in the trunk, just for moments like these. In those moments — I felt held.
The feeling of being embraced was fleeting.
And if I had to sum up my childhood and youth in one defining word — it would be abandoned. I was left in the forests with the great wolves — the ones who play with their prey — and I was easy prey.
Today, I paint trees to remember what my mind has forgotten. I am the trunk — rooted in longing, stretching toward the sky. My children are my crown —
the magnificent canopy above me. I have no roots. So I paint to give myself the roots I never had. To root myself in color, in memory, in creation.
And I connect everything — like an underground web I’ve built, like the scarlet thread I weave through my life and through my art. These are not paintings.
They are declarations — of pain, of healing, of my duality, and of ours. Of what was buried — and now dares to come into the light.
So- I’m happy your’e here to see… Enjoy!
