Organizing my work into categories happened slowly — through years of making, revisiting old pieces, starting new ones, and paying attention to what kept resurfacing. Last year, when I finally grouped my work into three main collections — Transmission, Root & Bloom, and Celestial Flow — something clicked.
They weren’t just collections.
They were layers of me.
Each one holds a different emotional register. A different way of seeing. A different stage of becoming. They represent how I feel, observe, and grow over time.
Together, they form what I’ve started to think of as my inner terrain — my inner being.
Transmission — the raw signal
Transmission carries the parts of me that move fast and feel deeply.
Struggle. Anger. Mourning. Determination.
These works come from instinct, emotion, and subconscious imagery. They’re about communication beneath language — gesture, texture, movement, tension. This is where psychological surrealism shows up most clearly for me. Faces dissolve. Forms overlap. Meaning isn’t literal.
This collection holds uncertainty, intensity, and vulnerability.
It’s where I process things I don’t yet have words for.
Root & Bloom — grounding and growth
Root & Bloom feels slower.
Growth. Entanglement. Release.
This is where I explore healing, connection, and resilience. There’s more space here. More softness. More attention to the balance between fragility and strength.
These pieces feel anchored — like they’re growing from something lived.
If Transmission is the nervous system, Root & Bloom is the body remembering how to breathe again.
Celestial Flow — expansion and reflection
Celestial Flow moves outward.
Mandalas. Aliens. Space.
This collection holds wonder, intuition, and perspective. It’s where cosmic elements, dreamlike landscapes, and symbolic figures come together. There’s a sense of drifting, of observing from a wider lens.
These works often feel meditative to me — less about reacting, more about witnessing.
It’s the layer that reminds me I’m part of something larger than my immediate experience.
Not separate — connected
What surprised me most is realizing these collections aren’t isolated.
They overlap.
They inform each other.
Sometimes a piece starts in Transmission and finds its way into Celestial Flow. Sometimes Root & Bloom holds fragments of both. The same emotional threads run through all three — they’re just expressed differently.
It feels less like organizing artwork and more like mapping internal landscapes.
Different moods. Different seasons. Same self.
Art as integration
I think this is why surreal elements show up across everything I make.
Surrealism allows me to hold complexity without forcing clarity.
It lets emotion exist alongside intuition. Memory beside imagination. Healing beside grief.
Making art this way has become a form of integration — bringing together parts of myself that once felt separate.
Not fixing them.
Just letting them coexist.
Inner terrain
I don’t see these collections as products.
I see them as evidence of survival, growth, and continued curiosity.
Every version of me was just trying to keep creating.
And maybe that’s what this whole body of work really is —
a visual record of learning how to stay with myself through change.
