My adopted identities have been a veil adorning the face I put out to the world. I painted with structures, textures and colors defined by the worlds I immersed myself in.

Living in four different countries over the past 15 years presented opportunities for reinvention. The chameleon within me tried to assimilate into every new home, with the places I lived becoming synonymous with my sense of self.

Every departure from those homes felt like shedding a part of myself. My core, beneath the veil, didn't want to let go. The need to anchor my adopted identity compelled me to capture those shredded pieces in projects like Traveling the World and World on Washi.

Painful as it is to admit, my path as an artist hasn't been entirely my own. It has been nudged by perceived expectations and shaped by a need to please others

The urge to create is unequivocally mine— it comes from the core. That I know. Each piece I create originates from a whirlwind of ideas and a burning impatience to bring it to life.

Influenced by the opinions of others I kept a tight rein on my creativity for decades, telling the artist inside to conform to the rules for fear of breaking them. All the while secretly yearning to splash bold colors and textures across the canvas.