I can't help but gasp when I set my eyes upon a Rococo painting. It's as if purposefully capturing all the things I love. I’m deeply attracted to the magical, natural, and feminine. My room is full of draping cloth, brass candle holders, miniature statues of angels and fae. When I see the works of François Boucher, I get chills. I feel the need to create, to touch brush to canvas. I seek to satisfy the need to capture that part of myself physically. When I see the soft pastels and lighting, intricate folding fabric, and earthly elements, I feel my pupils expand. I strive to have that level of detail, to have that much skill. I want to use my art to exaggerate the beauty of experience. But as a person who believes in showcasing nuance, I understand the world of Rococo is not a reality. 

My art also seeks to show my personal struggles, particularly with loneliness, something I’ve dealt with my whole life. Social anxiety dominated my life growing up. The more time went on, the further introverted I got and the further isolated I became, the more I was scared to speak to other people. I could not make eye contact. The stares of others were unbearable to me. Art was an escape. In the world full of florals and fantasy that I could create, the troubles of life could not find me. It was not until adulthood, where I found like minded artists, that I could come out of my shell. These new, budding relationships were overwhelming and exciting. I began to express these experiences, the exhilarating and the dreadful, through my art. I attempt to capture the freedom and constriction of socialization, especially the constriction of being a woman solely attracted to other women in a world simply not made for that. 

I have always made art but there are a few experiences that solidify my label as an artist. While I enjoy experimenting with an array of mediums, I am a painter at heart. Particularly, I adore oil. My first oil painting was a still life of a doll, flowers, and a plate, simple objects that attracted me. Watching the paint come out from the tube was almost erotic. Have you ever wished to eat paint? The buttery, smooth, sensual texture was all I was looking for. Halfway through, I dropped a metal pot on the antique plate, shattering it. I was forced to resketch, with a different theme in mind: fragility. My original goal was to capture the feminine- but in doing so, I broke it. A mishap on my part, a quality of mine, clumsiness, coming through and demonstrating the fragility I know all too well. 

My art is a showcase of my soul, my love for art history, my experiences, and my skill. As my soul morphs and changes, as my love for art history grows, as I experience more, and as I continue to practice, my art will only get better. One day I will be great, because my love for art can never be extinguished.