10/08/2026
Sometimes I take months to know what my paintings are about and what I was connecting to at the time. I am not sure why this painting showed up when it did, something triggered me deep while in residence at Torrance Art Museum this past August. Maybe it was the overwhelming imposter syndrome?
This painting is called "1987." I was a senior graduating high school in Miami, FL. For a long time before, I knew I had something different about me. Back then, I didn't have the words to explain the internal chaos I felt, I didn't even know I was coping so hard. I navigated a fractured childhood environment by becoming an expert at self-deprecation, hyper-performance, and people-pleasing...habits that felt natural but eventually hardened into a decades-long battle with anorexia, orthorexia and OCD. When trying to control my outer world became too exhausting, I turned to the only thing I could control... my body.
My two newest abstract paintings are a journey right back to that pivotal year.
The base of these pieces holds the confusion and isolation of that teenage version of me in 1987. I had support systems, my faith, my family, my very good friends, but my internal environment quietly ruled my mind.
The paintings begin with a Miami palette of 1987 but transform into a journey of discovery, acceptance, healing, and moving on. Passages of gesture feel smooth until interrupted by collage. Strokes run vertical and horizontal, layering feelings over each other. Moments of complete control and many random, naturally unbridled drips over negative space give you pause. You witness a visual archaeology of my past. They are artifacts of survival, proving that we can acknowledge where our armor was built, while choosing to lay it down.
These paintings are part of "The Architecture of Becoming" series, a collection of work exploring how our internal lives can take physical form. I consider this pair the prequel to the other 5 paintings exploring how our internal landscapes are developed and built.
They are quite human and vulnerable but hopeful and meaningful. 76X60 Mixed Media on Canvas.
I will be writing a full, deep backstory on my Substack soon.