Introducing My New Series — Can You See Me Now
I’ve stepped into a new body of work that feels like the beginning of something important for me — both as an artist and as a person. The series is called Can You See Me Now, and it’s rooted in a realization that has taken nearly thirty years to fully surface. After living in NYC through college and the early part of my adult life, I moved back to my hometown in Pennsylvania and entered a community that saw me — but not really. What I understand now, with distance and a lot more self-awareness, is that much of who I truly was lived underneath what people thought they were seeing.
This series is about that tension:
the outer self, the inner self, and the space between perception and truth.
It’s feminine, bold, deeply psychological, and more revealing than anything I’ve made so far.
And this won’t be a fast process — nor should it be. I’m giving myself the time and space to build this work slowly over the next couple of years. Each painting will be paired with a journal entry, not as an explanation, but as a way to open a door for the viewer — to invite them into the layers beneath the surface, the parts of a person’s story that don’t always show up at first glance.
My intention is for this series to be more than a visual experience. It’s a conversation about how we’re understood, misunderstood, and, sometimes, not seen at all. And I think this is something many of us can relate to — the feeling of being partly visible, or visible in the wrong ways, especially in the more formative chapters of our lives.
Truthfully, I have a sense this may be my most challenging and meaningful undertaking as an artist so far — and that excites me. This feels like the kind of work you step into when you’re ready, not when you’re young. The work that asks for honesty, reflection, and lived experience.
I’m ready for that.
LATELY, I’VE BEEN THINKING…
“I’m grateful for the awareness that lets me revisit my own history and turn it into work that can hold everything it gave me—beauty, pain, and the wisdom that lives between the two.”
Until next time,
Introducing My New Series — Can You See Me Now
01/08/2026, New York City
I’ve stepped into a new body of work that feels like the beginning of something important for me — both as an artist and as a person. The series is called Can You See Me Now, and it’s rooted in a realization that has taken nearly thirty years to fully surface. After living in NYC through college and the early part of my adult life, I moved back to my hometown in Pennsylvania and entered a community that saw me — but not really. What I understand now, with distance and a lot more self-awareness, is that much of who I truly was lived underneath what people thought they were seeing.
This series is about that tension:
the outer self, the inner self, and the space between perception and truth.
It’s feminine, bold, deeply psychological, and more revealing than anything I’ve made so far.
And this won’t be a fast process — nor should it be. I’m giving myself the time and space to build this work slowly over the next couple of years. Each painting will be paired with a journal entry, not as an explanation, but as a way to open a door for the viewer — to invite them into the layers beneath the surface, the parts of a person’s story that don’t always show up at first glance.
My intention is for this series to be more than a visual experience. It’s a conversation about how we’re understood, misunderstood, and, sometimes, not seen at all. And I think this is something many of us can relate to — the feeling of being partly visible, or visible in the wrong ways, especially in the more formative chapters of our lives.
Truthfully, I have a sense this may be my most challenging and meaningful undertaking as an artist so far — and that excites me. This feels like the kind of work you step into when you’re ready, not when you’re young. The work that asks for honesty, reflection, and lived experience.
I’m ready for that.
LATELY, I’VE BEEN THINKING…
“I’m grateful for the awareness that lets me revisit my own history and turn it into work that can hold everything it gave me—beauty, pain, and the wisdom that lives between the two.”
Until next time,
