My love for painting began as a child and then resurfaced in the garden.

What started as a quiet ritual - seeding, studying light, waiting for the first signs of growth - slowly changed the way I saw art. Gardening taught me patience. It taught me that growth happens beneath the surface long before anything is visible. It taught me beauty is played, seasonal and imperfect.

Over time, I began to notice that I was approaching my art the same way I approached the earth - building layers, responding to light, allowing forms to emerge rather than forcing them. Florals became a natural language for me, but abstraction followed closely behind. Just as no garden grows in straight lines, my work moves between structure and freedom, bloom and gesture.

My studio shares space with new seedling trays and views of the gardens just outside my door. It is difficult for me separate the two worlds where I find the most joy.

Painting, like gardening, is an act of nurturing. It is listening. It is trusting what wants to grow. I look forward to sharing both with you.