I became infatuated with the visual field when my parents gave me a disposable camera. I was two. I started painting when I was eight.

A chance weekend with a family friend afforded me a lifetime of knowledge about mediums and texture; she taught me how to use toothbrushes as paintbrushes and how to defy expectations. Painting became an interrogation of chemistry and potions; finding the ineffably surprising moment that lies on the other side of craft, process, and exploration. 

I took my first college-level art class at Berkeley City College, studying under activist and muralist Juana Alicia. At that point, I had lost all sense of myself as an artist. Juana Alicia ignited something I was convinced I’d lost. 

So I began to work in art galleries, museums, enrolled in Mills College, and began experimenting in studio arts.  I studied under Chris Sollars and began to explore the extensive possibilities within what makes a surface.  

I realized that there are about four famous female artists that work with epoxy resin, as it is the most toxic substance known to man—it will make you infertile, or get cancer, or both. I had already come to terms with my own mortality, so I said fuck it, and fell in love with resin. I became a sculptor and performance artist, heavily influenced by Anselm Kiefer, Barbara Kruger, and Marina Abramović. 

So, art is not something I do for fun, or for scholarships, or because I think I am good at it. It fills the void in my soul. It keeps me present and satiates my deepest needs; I can’t have it any other way.