Painting and interior design have followed me through every stage of my life. I find satisfaction in creating the worlds that occur to me in dreams or that arise from other people’s personal stories intertwining with my visual language.

Working at the bedside in hospitals around Boston and New York for the last decade has unequivocally deepened my understanding of the human condition. It is clear that the world is lacking true connection, especially as we lay in the social rubble of the pandemic and rise of social media.

The root desire of my work –– in nursing and in art, is to make people feel understood through my own vulnerability. Genuine rapport emerges from curiosity and authenticity. We are lacking connection due to the fear of being perceived. In a world that sells easily consumable facades and quick AI “art”, I am much more interested in the radical approach of observing and being observed. It takes time. And so, in truth, it seems that time is the thread tying it all together: my obsession with preserving life in art, tending to a person at the end of their life, learning a client’s mind before I begin a commission. Have you noticed how time chapters into the most comforting volumes when you choose to connect? Time is only oppressive in a life of isolation.