DISCOVERING MY ARTISTIC VOICE THROUGH TEXTURE

My earliest artistic memories are steeped in watercolor—fluid, delicate, and fleeting. When I was sponsored to attend two summers at the Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC, my focus was fashion and interior design. I spent my days sketching garments and interiors, wielding pencil and pigment as my tools of choice—when I wasn’t tangled in thread at a sewing machine. I vividly remember the feeling of walking out of the dormitory, into the streets of NYC holding my extra-large sketch book walking with a tender-hearted confidence and pride i’ve yet to experience until that moment. It was a feeling I’ll never forget: visceral explosion of self-love. I’ve memorialized that moment within the texture of our pieces, a warm-hug and whisper in her ear to the girl that thought she would never feel that centered again. I wish she knew back then what that reverence would evolve into.

Abstraction always lingered in the background, a quiet meditation. I longed to have it shape into a career—but was met with a realization that, despite my acceptance into my dream school, F.I.T., I didn’t have the means or support to at that time to make it happen. My creative aspirations were forced into dormancy, and slowly so did the passion for art. Years passed, and I slipped in and out of chef’s coats, then into the structured world of mental health and addiction recovery, trying to find purpose in a path that was meant for me but never truly mine.

Flash forward—lightyears away from that version of myself—abstraction found me again. Not only as a career but as my lifeline. It became the one action capable of silencing intrusive thoughts, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had. A true coping mechanism. A true form of healing. But something was missing. The smooth, effortless glide of watercolor across paper felt distant, unable to capture the depth of emotion I ached to convey. My art needed weight, presence—something tangible.

In 2021, I became obsessed with texture. I experimented relentlessly, formulating mixtures that could hold history within their layers. I yearned to create work that wasn’t just seen but felt—a sensory experience that left an imprint on the viewer, an invitation to engage with art beyond mere observation. Tactile texture allows for a deeper connection, one that lingers on fingertips and beneath the skin. The way fiber artists weave emotion into every thread has always captivated me—the irresistible pull to touch, to feel, to experience. That’s what I sought to create in my own work.

And now, texture is the language through which my art speaks. It carries the weight of everything I’ve lived through and all that I’ve yet to become.