My Story
About the Artist
Every piece I create is a dream I've held since I was a child. It's not just the landscapes or the flowers themselves, but the feeling of peace, freedom, and beauty — the place where my heart rests. When I look at them, I take a moment to breathe. When I capture these places, I am just so grateful to be here, to witness with my own eyes and take a moment to enjoy it. Whether it's a place I've already been or somewhere I long to go, there will always be a spot where I feel the freedom and beauty I am driven to capture on paper.
Growing up, there were many things I knew I didn't want to merge my life with. I knew there was a part of me that wanted to make choices of my own, independently. Deep down, I always believed I could build a better future. I wasn't sure how, but in my dreams, I knew I could. Of course, there were moments where I asked myself: 'What if it's not real? Is it just a dream, or just something I am hoping for?' Those dreams gave me the strength to make my own choices and truly pursue my path.
Sometimes I'd pick up a pencil and draw—no plan, no purpose. I never imagined those fun sketches would lead me here.
A Journey in the In-Between
My journey working as a caregiver—living in my clients' homes day and night—unexpectedly led me to where I am today. The nature of caregiving is tender, but it's not always easy. Every situation is different, and it can be challenging. Yet, surrounded by the beautiful paintings hanging on their walls, I began to wonder, study, and marvel at how those landscapes and portraits were created by an artist. It started as an interest born in the places I worked, and through it all, I kept painting when I could.
I took a few community classes when time allowed, but life happened. Something shifted in my family, and I stopped painting for about three years. Still, I didn't let go completely. I was still a beginner with no place to set up, but I kept going. I dragged my easel from job to job, home to home—I couldn't let it go.
Finding My Language
There were times when I heard negative voices from others. But something in me kept going. Painting quiet moments brings me joy, comfort, and peace. Pastels became my language when I didn't have words.
One of my late clients generously gave me space in their home to paint. That moment changed everything—it gave me a place to land and to reconnect with my art, turning a spark of interest into a lifelong passion.
Now, I finally have a place to learn and grow. I'm so grateful to be here. My work has shaped me deeply—through caregiving, through grief, through quiet persistence. Joining an art community recently helped me push past fear and discouragement. My art journey has been quiet, hidden in corners—but it's always been there, waiting for me to say yes.
I made this in the quiet. I hope it finds you there too.
