I am fascinated by the endless variety within people—the ways they think, how they move, the shapes and shadows that make up their physical form—all the ways in which we are different and yet so similar to each other. This innate interest led me to portraiture, an intimate place that finally allowed me to look, really look, as long and deeply as I desired. What I have seen in the women who have entrusted me with their likeness fills me with awe. Every joint, curve, wrinkle, and stretch mark that comes together, layered and technicolored, to make up our bodies is effortlessly lovely and worthy of being immortalized in paint. 

I know these things to be attainable for all women: radical self-love, radical self-compassion, radical deep, soul-level healing. This conviction shows up in every part of my art practice. By rendering the body authentically, without dramatization or a compulsion to “perfect” the female form, I am working within the larger conversation happening now that is condemning how our bodies have been represented within Western art and the media. For centuries we have burdened each generation of women with a body standard unique to their time that must be strictly adhered to, so that we may somehow earn society’s acceptance. This is tragic when the truth is our worth is our divine right, not a thing to be passed out like a trophy in a contest none of us signed up for. We are all allowed to simply exist, without commentary, entirely for our pleasure — and that my love, is beautiful.