Artist Statement

In 2020 under the pressure of the pandemic, like most, I found myself at a standstill. The stillness was all consuming. I could only think of my family who depended on me, on our businesses for survival. Failure was the closest it has ever been—it was so close, I could feel it heavily breathing, waiting.

From an early age, I have been a worker. I have spent a lifetime trying to prove my worth with high achievements avoiding inner reflection at all cost. The thought was if I’m busy enough, I can avoid pain. I am not a stranger to hurts, like child abuse, bullying, body dysmorphia, domestic violence as a young adult, bearing a special needs child and watching her deteriorate, and oh, yea, surviving breast cancer. Twice. I know I can endure countless more hurts, but pain is different. Pain, like fear, can take over becoming one’s identity.

My work is autobiographical and are anthropomorphic representations of what my body has endured through abstract forms. The brush becomes meditative. The thinking shuts off in the practice.  It’s here on canvas, in the studio, where I can finally heal. 

In my non-traditional study of art and design from my grandmother, as well as art history info sessions from the Masterclass of Cruz Ortiz, I became drawn to and immersed in the artistic practices of Krasner and Mitchell. These two approaches to making work made it ok, cool even, to take the risk of self reflection. Krasner removed the label of making ‘womens work’ and connected me to other forms of healing through expression and artistic thought.

Oil painting not only freed the emotional binds, but almost immediately, I realized the universality of the work relates not only to women of color, but to all bodies under patriarchy.