Both of my great grandmothers were artists and writers, and I grew up surrounded by creative minds and hands. My father, a creative entrepreneur, became an early example for me of how artistic passion could also be a way of life. I worked alongside him on and off growing up, quietly absorbing the value of making and building things from imagination. Still, it wasn’t until my early twenties that I began to take art seriously. One day, I bought a pile of art supplies—and I’ve never looked back. For me, painting is a form of catharsis. I’m a deeply visual person. I often have vivid dreams or flashes of imagery throughout the day that feel urgent—like they’re meant to be translated into paint. Creating art has always felt therapeutic, a form of expression that allows me to process, release, and reconnect with myself and the world around me.