My parents gave me life, opened my eyes to the world, showed me faith, and fueled my passions. That is where my story starts. The travels, the trips to art museums, the art books, the art classes, the art supplies… To a child curious about art, I was given bliss. And for that I will be forever grateful.
I was fortunate that my challenges never came from my home, and it is from that world that I entered into a bigger world. A world where not just beauty, but both good and evil, lay in the eyes of the beholder. Not unlike Alice going down the rabbit hole, fact turns stranger than fiction, where simple realities translate into complicated truths.
I am just starting to come into this wider world as an artist. Hesitant, reluctant, and unsure. After all, art is personal. It reflects my insecurities, my imperfections, and my mind’s eye, my personal moments. It isn’t easy sharing all that with the public. How my art is seen, how it is interpreted, and my willingness to let go of what I spent myself on. Revealing your truth to the world is never easy.
It all begins from simplicity. Now add clarity, add details, add my own understanding of what my eyes can see, add that spark of what my mind can imagine. Finally, return it back to simplicity. That is the journey of innocence, finding inspiration, materializing on canvas. These are my emotions, my story, expressed thought through art.
I am still finding myself, still experimenting with styles, tools, and mediums. Pencil, charcoal, pastels, acrylic… For now, I’ll find myself through oil paints, and remain to any style, uncommitted.
Faith, passion, life… These are the basic subjects of my work. Color is my language, and the flow of lines and shades the metaphor of what I see through my eyes, projected in my mind. My art externalizes what I feel within me, an expression of my perception of life, that moment when innocence melds with life captured in paint, a truth realized.