
Before becoming a full-time artist, I spent years building a corporate career while trying to be a good mum, stay healthy, be present and actually enjoy my life.
I cared about all of it, which was probably part of the problem.
The more I tried to keep up, the more I felt like I was failing somewhere else.
After a while, it felt like a constant wheel of performance. Most of all, I hated the feeling of being small and replaceable.

I wanted to believe that more was possible.
That you can want a different life than the one you are living and actually go and build it.
It was audacious and terrifying.
But underneath the fear there was always a feeling. The sense that the light was about to break, even when I couldn't see it yet.
That feeling is what I paint.
I think of it as possibility.
The believing, before the proof arrives.

I learnt how much our surroundings shape us during one of the more overwhelming seasons of my life.
It was lockdown. I was pregnant, working full time, looking after a toddler and home almost all of the time.
Home became everything at once: work, parenting, rest, worry and recovery.
If the house felt chaotic, I felt it in myself. But small changes made a difference. Clearing a room. Adding plants. Painting a wall.
None of it solved life, but it changed how life felt.
And it taught me something I have never let go of since. If what surrounds us can weigh us down, it can also lift us up. We get to choose what we live inside.
So I chose to live surrounded by the feeling I wanted most. The sense that life was happening now and more was still ahead.

My paintings are imagined landscapes, somewhere between earth, sky, space, memory and feeling.
A real place is already decided. Fixed, finished, someone else's.
An imagined one is open, because an open horizon is where possibility lives, and it leaves room for yours.
I hope each piece becomes more than something on a wall.
Part of the atmosphere of a room, part of a season of your life. Because the spaces we make around us become part of us.
This is what I want to give you.
The feeling of standing at your own horizon, every day, in your own home, and believing that anything is possible.



