Art evokes the suburb of our experiences, emotions, and longings; it transcendence beyond personal preference. Art is vulnerability. Art is intimacy. Art is mystery. Art is indefinite. Art evokes the truth.

In Art i have found my habitat. A place to be alone somewhere no one knows.

Little by little, brushstrokes spell out my story on canvas.

My work exhibits both the glories and pitfalls of the autodidact; I let it emerge naturally and I do not force myself to be what I am not.

Art is a golden blanket that gently embraces sentient beings of pure heart; the bold ones willing to express it.

I paint to make up the gaps that language just can't fill.

Loan me a canvas and I will let down my guard. Loan me a paintbrush and I will reach into my soul. Loan me jars full of colors and I will submerge in a sea of possibilities. Loan me the time and you will see infinite versions of my being re-born.

Remember, creativity is like a compass, each one has its own, and each one points to a different North.

Critics are only concerned with what affects them. And feeling empathy is a gift not many possess.