In 2020, I was 35 years old and running my dog walking business. I’ve always been creative—I’ve drawn and painted for as long as I can remember—but the last time I painted properly was back in school. After that, I just stopped. I guess I didn’t see much reason to keep going, as there was "no reason to paint". Between 18 and 35 years old, I probably painted about six times, and two of those were for my daughters’ nurseries.
When lockdown hit, I thought it would only last three weeks. Like everyone else, my business had to shut down. To keep myself busy, I bought a canvas and some paints. I figured my daughter had outgrown the painting I made for her room, so I thought, why not make something new? But honestly, the materials just sat there.
By the third week, we found out lockdown wasn’t ending anytime soon, and that’s when things changed for me. My mental health had been fine up until then because I thought it was temporary, but hearing it was going to drag on made me anxious. My dog walking wasn’t just a job. It gave me time to clear my head and think. Without it, I felt stuck.
So I finally pulled out the canvas. I didn’t expect much, but when I finished the painting, I was surprised by how good it turned out. More importantly, I felt calm for the first time in weeks. Painting gave me the same kind of mental space that walking used to—it let me zone out and process things without getting overwhelmed.
I posted the painting on Facebook, not thinking much of it, and someone asked if I could paint something for them after lockdown. That led to another commission, and then another, and before I knew it, I was dog walking in the mornings and painting in the afternoons. It all just kind of happened.
At first, I wasn’t painting my own ideas. I was working off images people gave me, either replicating them or putting my own spin on them. It wasn’t until 2021 that I started creating work based on my own thoughts and experiences. That was a turning point. Painting became personal, and it felt like a way to process my emotions and tell my story.
By 2022, I started finding my voice as an artist. I was still taking commissions, but I stopped copying other people’s images. I’d outgrown that. The commissions were great, though, because they forced me to experiment and figure out how to get the effects people wanted. Being self-taught, I had to test different materials and techniques to see what worked.
When I started focusing on my own ideas, I pulled everything I’d learned into my work. I joined a group exhibition later that year with two other artists, and all fifteen of my pieces sold within the first month. That was a big moment for me.
By the end of 2021, I knew I was ready to take things further. I made the decision that I was going to step fully into my role as an artist, and part of that was building myself a studio. I saved all the money I made from my paintings and, by 2024, I had built my studio. It’s not just a workspace—it’s a reflection of the commitment I made to myself and to my art.
Now, I feel ready to fully step into this role. I used to worry about not having formal training, but I’ve let that go. In fact, being self-taught is something I’m proud of now. I don’t have anyone else’s rules in my head about what art should or shouldn’t be. I don’t care if I’m using materials the “wrong” way—I just experiment and see what happens.
For me, painting is as much about exploration as it is about expression. I like testing things out, mixing materials, and seeing where it takes me. It’s playful, and I think that keeps the work interesting.
These days, my art is closely tied to my spiritual journey. It’s more than just a creative outlet—it’s how I process what I’m experiencing and how I make sense of it all.
I never planned on becoming an artist. It just unfolded naturally, and now I can’t imagine doing anything else.
Many of my artworks have intricate details and imagery buried and hidden amongst the artworks. The purpose of this is to remind the spectator to always be willing to take a closer look at yourself and your surroundings: often, the most interesting things about ourselves are buried deep/hidden and are waiting to be seen and acknowledged.
Through my art, I explore the unspoken—transforming abstract emotions into visual narratives that speak directly to the viewer's subconscious. Every painting is a journey of revelation, where personal experiences become universal insights.
