My earliest memory of painting is in my kindergarten classroom while my peers played on the playground during recess. Art was the one thing I was always drawn to, and my parents nurtured that interest by enrolling me in extra art classes throughout elementary, middle, and high school. By eight years old, I had set up my first little tent at the local farmers market selling my paintings—and I’ve been selling my work ever since.
As I got older, art became more than a hobby; it became an anchor. In high school, it carried me through difficult moments and remained constant when other interests came and went. When I discovered that you could study art in college, the path felt undeniable. During my time at Cal Poly, I was encouraged to shift away from symbolic imagery and lean into abstraction. That transition was extremely difficult, and I fought it for a while, but eventually it opened up my fascination with pattern painting. I had always been drawn to color and repetition—even my childhood artwork reflects that—but college was the first time I fully committed to exploring color relationships, illusions, and rhythmic structures without relying on a subject or figure.
After graduating college, I spent time in Los Angeles working as a studio assistant for another artist. That experience taught me the ins and outs of the art world and what it truly means to be a professional artist. It confirmed what I already felt growing inside me—I wanted this life. I knew I wanted to commit myself to being an artist for the rest of my life, and I knew there would be many challenges along the way.
I eventually moved to Austin, Texas, where I began my career as a full-time artist.
Now, as a 24-year-old painter, my practice centers on large-scale pattern paintings and murals that explore the emotional resonance of color and the meditative nature of repetition. My work is labor-intensive: precise linework, concentric forms, and slowly shifting gradients that require hours of focus and intention. I’m constantly researching new ways to manipulate color, studying how light interacts with surfaces, and drawing inspiration from the patterns found in both architecture and the natural world.
In this current chapter of my practice, I’m particularly interested in how repeated forms can echo memory, movement, or sound—how a pattern can feel like something moving, vibrating, or lingering. Each painting becomes a slow, immersive meditation. As I continue to grow, I’m committed to pushing the scale of my work, refining my understanding of color theory, and creating pieces that invite viewers into a space of reflection, rhythm, and emotional connection.
