Narratives
Most of these narrative paintings are large-scale, immersive scenes that invite the viewer to step directly into the story. By working at a scale that nearly mirrors the human body, I aim to create the feeling that one might walk right into the space, becoming part of the moment rather than an outside observer. Many of these narratives unfold across two panels, forming diptychs that operate as a single image. The divide between panels becomes a symbolic break: a separation between two people, two places, or two perspectives and realities.
The spaces within my paintings often have no clear identity—empty or undefined environments that allow the focus to rest on the situation rather than the setting. These works function as my visual diary, charting what I am experiencing as a woman, a mother, and a person continuously seeking who I was, who I am now, and who I want to become. They map where I’ve been, where I find myself now, and the direction I hope to move toward.
Humor, surrealism, and whimsy weave through these narratives, softening difficult moments and offering hope within struggle. Recurrent actions—pushing, pulling, dragging—performed by animals, figures, or objects become metaphors for growth, resistance, and the desire to be seen and to matter. Animals often stand in for human identity: the dog embodies unconditional love; the chicken, distracted and self-focused, mirrors the fleeting quality of a half-remembered dream; the jackrabbit is the quiet listener, present only in stillness and rare to encounter.
I also use boats, carts, and wheeled objects—vehicles that are often cumbersome or difficult to move. The effort to shift them forward reflects the emotional labor of navigating my life during the period in which each piece is made. These paintings are stories of motion and stillness, burden and hope, and the ongoing work of becoming.