Oil on Mixed Media - Summer 2023

This piece is about what happens inside me. Well, most pieces are. When I look at them after I paint them, I suddenly sense a resemblance with my thoughts, feelings, or sometimes the mental/cognitive state of mind. I still don't know much about our feelings affect what we imagine and create. So maybe this is natural or has a name. 

Anyways, the ribbons are things I want, desire and wish. As you can see, they are confined and can't move and grow freely. The bits and pieces have filled the space. Some are solid, like the dark blues and the black ones. Those black holes...

 Those blue stains make the ribbons unpure, belittle them. My elegant blue perfectionism. Those small stripes, unfinished works. Then some insignificant yellow satisfaction. Plus, Fading achievements, the peachy and green ones. Purples? oooh😈. Those are wrong. Just like this emoji. Not in an evil, forbidden, suppressed sense. They are wrong beliefs. Those are false prophets, fake virtues. Like being a nice girl.

That small dark red square? That's the untapped evil I mentioned. Who knows what's there? I think everyone has one of them. And the fingerprints remind me of being unique, of my parents, of heritage, of unfulfilled concerns and questions. They should increase over time, along with satisfaction and achievements.

Oil on Canvas - Spring 2021

Digital - Spring 2020

It's about loss. Any more details? Nope, lost too. Got lost forever, along with the chat history of Boyfriend the II. I lost my dad in the summer of 2019. Then I also lost my cat two months before this painting. I felt like a freak. That freaky flower is me. Loss (the red bubble) is leaking into my self-image. It is washing my foundations away (leaves and the stem). Some of it is blended in the center of the flower. A symbol of change. Not a healthy or reliable change, of course. The loss bubble is not blown, but you can't avoid the vulnerability of it all. It also felt vague. Where am I (flower)? In the cloudy sky? In a fog? Am I huge?

Digital - Spring 2020

Thanks, Dad...for everything.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”― Rumi.

Pen and Digital Sketch - Winter 2016

Inspired by (obviously) butterflies I had in my stomach for my first boyfriend. Should have listened to them and run away from him. Feeling beautiful insects in your belly seems poetic but don't overlook the morbid aspect of it all. (Poems come from your heart or brain, idiot, not your belly! Unless you are...well, hungry or horny.)

Digital - Fall 2016

Fine Liners on Paper - Summer 2016

Fine Liners and Pens on (some trash) Paper - Summer 2013

Stupid thing I drew in a chemistry class. "Tasmanian Devil" seems to be a relative of his🤦🏻‍♀️.