For years, I carried emotions I didn’t know how to name—grief, anxiety, overwhelm, even joy—and I often felt disconnected from my own inner world. Sketching became a lifeline. It gave me a nonverbal language to express what lived inside me without needing to explain or justify it.

I was drawn to the simplicity of pen and paper because it felt honest, nothing to hide behind, no chance to erase or perfect, just presence. I work primarily in black and white ink because the marks are permanent, like emotional truths etched into time. Each line I make becomes a commitment to what I felt in that moment. There’s no undoing, only deepening. It mirrors how emotions leave imprints in the body and psyche, visible or not, they remain part of our story.

To balance that permanence, I incorporate watercolor, fluid, unpredictable, and often unruly. Unlike ink, water cannot be contained. It moves, blends, resists control. This dance between ink and water reflects the dance between structure and surrender in my own healing.

My work is an invitation to slow down, tune in, and listen to your body, your intuition, and the parts of yourself that words often fail to reach.