As a youth I broke many bones. As a young adult I fractured my mind. What followed has been a life filled with the lowest of lows and the highest of highs. I entered treatment and was medicated and started therapy. Nothing helped and I got worse. I didn’t improve because I continually sabotaged myself. I have always been an artist but what art I could make was dark and disturbing. It was definitely not conducive to healing. I abandoned my art. Several of my therapists encouraged me to journal but I found it difficult to write. Out of frustration I began to journal with my art. I found that I could work out issues with pictures. As I progressed my work became colorful. I became more lighthearted and even happy. I can truly say that art heals. I have chosen not to be a victim. I am a survivor. I am bigger than my monsters.
I had spent most of my life waiting for happiness to find me, only to realize that I had it within me all along.
My subject is whimsy. My subject is color. My subject is anything that makes me happy. Everyday I grow stronger and I am made whole by my art.