In the vast, rolling countryside of western Pennsylvania, where cornfields stretched endlessly and forests whispered secrets, I was a middle child searching desperately for my voice. My childhood was a beautiful struggle, a constant quest to be heard, to be seen, to express the complex universe that lived inside my mind.

Living with Duane Syndrome, a congenital eye condtion that limits one eye’s horizontal movement, shaped how I see and make. I learned to read the world off-axis: head-turns, peripheral catches, stitched perspectives. That embodied way of looking drives my work today: layered figures, blur meeting clarity, electric color that holds memory and motion at once. Early undiagnosed learning disabilities and differences, made school a climb but honed my attention to texture, rhythm, and emotion. My paintings and mixed-media pieces choose “too much” on purpose, inviting viewers to recognize the parts of themselves that don’t neatly align. From kitchen-table sketches to gallery walls, I translate what the heart feels before the mouth can speak.