Artist Process & Journey Statement

"The Art of Letting Go"

Every painting I create begins long before ink touches paper. It starts in my mind—vivid, swirling with color, shape, and movement. I can see it clearly, almost tangibly. The way the forms bloom, the contrast between hues, the emotional resonance I want it to carry. But what I’ve learned—what this past year has taught me—is that the magic doesn’t live in the perfection of what I imagine. It lives in the space where I have to let go.

Translating what’s in my head into something physical has always been both a gift and a challenge. As someone navigating autism, ADHD, and the complex layers of neurodivergence, I’ve spent most of my life trying to make sense of the world in ways that protect my nervous system. That often meant striving for control, structure, and precision in a world that constantly felt unpredictable.

But art, specifically alcohol ink painting, has cracked that open in the most healing way.

Over the past year, my diagnosis has been less of a “new” discovery and more of a return—a return to the self I’d long buried beneath masking, coping, and adapting. And through that return, I’ve reconnected with a flow state I thought I’d lost forever. Alcohol ink doesn’t allow for tight control. It demands surrender. It responds to breath, to movement, to mood. It teaches me, gently and again and again, how to release perfectionism and let the piece become what it needs to be.

I use breathwork throughout my process—not only to guide the ink across the surface but to ground myself. It’s a sensory experience that regulates my system and brings me into stillness. Every layer is a moment of trust, every color a release of expectation.

This body of work is more than visual. It’s a sensory landscape. A conversation between control and chaos. Between who I thought I had to be and who I finally get to become.

These pieces are reminders that softness is strong. That imperfection is sacred. And that the truest art flows from presence—not perfection.