The wild call of beauty found me early.
I was never quite content with what the eye could see.
Even as a child, I was drawn to what shimmered beneath the surface—a hidden expression, a shadow in the corner, a flicker of story in the eyes of an animal or a stranger.
My path into painting was anything but linear. I began with sketching and drawing, turning paper into story. But over time, I found myself longing for more vibrancy and intensity — to build something lasting with my hands, something layered and luminous that could whisper long after I was gone.
Oil painting answered that call. And I answered back.
There were years of learning, frustration, experiments with old masters’ techniques and modern chemistry. I studied the Flemish methods, trained my eye in chiaroscuro, mixed my own mediums with devotion and curiosity.
Each painting became an alchemical ritual—layer after layer revealing not just a subject, but a soul.
But even with skill came doubt. I struggled to see the value of what I was creating. I asked myself: Is this enough? Am I enough? I faced the silent fears all creatives meet. Yet time and again, I returned to the canvas, and it kept welcoming me back.
My breakthrough came when I let go of perfection and leaned into feeling. I began to paint with intent, yes, but also with vulnerability. That’s when collectors started writing me—not just to compliment my technique, but to tell me how deeply the pieces moved them. How did you know this was how I feel? they’d ask. And I realized: I wasn’t just painting images. I was painting echoes—emotions people had long carried but never seen mirrored before.
Now, each piece I create is a chapter of that larger story.
Of transformation, of mystery, of reverence for nature and femininity, for folklore and hidden symbols.
My studio is where memory, imagination, and mastery meet. And each painting is an invitation—for you to feel, to wonder, to remember