I admit I know myself more now than I ever did before, but pray I keep growing and transforming from this personal alchemy called art.

My work is grounded in the belief that the ordinary holds extraordinary meaning. I am a painter and collage artist with a deep affinity for repurposed materials—papers, textiles, and fragments of life—that carry the imprint of time and human presence. In my studio, discarded objects are not seen as trash, but as artifacts: visual remnants of existence, of fleeting moments made tangible.

The process is intuitive and cyclical. I often cannibalize past works—drawings become collages, collages inspire paintings, and paintings sometimes birth new digital works or quilts. I view this as a form of creative alchemy: transformation, elevation, and continual rebirth. I am heavily influenced by artists like Henri Matisse for his bold color and flattened spaces, Kurt Schwitters for his reverence for the found object, and Keith Haring’s unapologetic, graphic line.

At the philosophical core of my practice is an embrace of imperfection. I’m inspired by the Japanese aesthetic of “heta-uma” (literally “bad-good”), a style that celebrates work that is technically naive, rough, or awkward but emotionally raw and compelling. Similarly, the ethos of wabi-sabi—finding beauty in impermanence and imperfection—has shaped my love for working with materials that already carry a history.

Growing up in Clarksville, Tennessee, in a creative and supportive household, I was introduced to art early. My mom gave me my first paintbrush, my neighbor taught me to paint, and my first studio was in my mom’s old basement—one of those “formative” spaces I still hold dear. I earned my BFA from Austin Peay State University, where I honed my love for collage, papermaking, and painting, and learned to trust my eye for pattern, texture, and emotional resonance.

Today, I work across multiple disciplines—painting, collage, digital media—and also teach high school art, where I encourage students to embrace their unique visual voices. I’m particularly drawn to helping young artists break through perfectionism and fear of judgment, something I had to unlearn myself. I tell them often: art doesn’t have to be polished to be powerful. Sometimes, the roughest edges speak the loudest truths.

My work often operates as a “Proof of Existence”—a phrase I use to describe how these layered compositions function as visual diaries. Receipts, scribbles, textures, fabric scraps, handwriting—each carries a small imprint of life, and when combined, they create a narrative space that viewers can enter. Through this process, I hope to preserve fleeting moments, while inviting others to reflect on the value of what we often overlook.

Looking ahead, I aim to continue expanding my practice—both as a working artist and as an educator. I am pursuing graduate study to deepen my conceptual and technical range, with the goal of teaching at the community college level, where I can help emerging artists embrace experimentation, risk-taking, and authentic expression.

Art is, for me, both a personal practice of discovery and a way of building connection. Whether through a large acrylic painting, a fragile paper collage, or a video shared online, my hope is that the work resonates beyond the surface—inviting viewers to slow down, look closer, and consider the beauty that exists in the imperfect and the ordinary.