For me, art began as a release — a way to cope when I didn’t have the words.
I first started drawing from my subconscious during one of the darkest times in my life. In my early twenties, while enduring an abusive marriage, I turned to sketching and poetry as a way to process the emotional and physical pain I was going through. Drawing gave me moments of escape and clarity. It became a private language between me and my inner world.
At the same time, I began taking college art courses as part of my art minor. I remember feeling intimidated by the talent around me — students who could render perfect, realistic drawings. But I wasn’t drawn to realism. I didn’t want to recreate what already existed. I wanted to reach beyond the surface and explore what couldn’t be seen — the internal, the emotional, the unspoken. My professors sometimes compared my style to Van Gogh’s, which was a reminder that expressive art has its own powerful place.
Over time, I stopped planning my work. I stopped trying to fit in with anyone else’s expectations of what art should be. I just... created.
When I work from the subconscious, it’s like entering a trance. Whether I’m working with paint, ink, or pixels, I let the layers evolve. I blend forms, distort shapes, and play with abstraction, letting emotions surface on their own. There’s a balance between instinct and design — a visual language I’ve developed over time that reflects emotions like pain, joy, curiosity, and even nostalgia.
One piece that still surprises me is Broken Road (2022). I began painting it digitally with no set intention, drawn to a roadside scene reminiscent of the drives to my family home. I added vine-like growth and shapes that hinted at memory and nature. But as I worked, something unexpected emerged — a shape that looked like an eye in the middle of the road. It began to symbolize my life’s journey, split and carried by beauty, but also marked by the pain and hate I’ve encountered. It became a dreamlike vision — an image of both serenity and haunting awareness.
View the time lapse video of Broken Road below.
I’ve come to understand that not all art has to be beautiful in the traditional sense. Sometimes it’s meant to stir something deeper, something personal. I know that subconscious art can make people uncomfortable because it doesn’t offer easy answers. It can feel raw or unfamiliar. But that’s also the power of it — each person brings their own experiences, and what they see may reflect parts of themselves they haven’t acknowledged before.
That’s why I never try to define my work too early. I let the subconscious lead, and in doing so, it becomes a mirror — not just for me, but for those who find connection in the unexpected.
✨ Interested in owning a piece of this story?
Broken Road (2022) is available as a print in my shop. Each layer reflects part of my healing process, and I hope it connects with yours too.
