a star must burn

Through the life and death of stars, drafting techniques trace the paths that cross in our lives. In this series I draw from my own personal encounters. Some people come into our lives to stay, while others are meant to teach us and go. Reflecting on cycles of ending and beginning, loss and renewal, the work explores how we are carried, changed, and reborn, blending the logic of science with the mysteries of intimacy and spirituality.

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed,"

-Carl jung

until we met Acrylic, oil, spray paint

exhibited in "the art of planetary science" at the university of arizona in tucson, arizona

The stars exploded long before us, scattering what we’re made of.

When we met, something in us remembered how to come back together.

don't blink! Acrylic, oil, spray paint

exhibited in “As She Should” at AM:PM Gallery in Brooklyn, NY

are we the same? acrylic, oil, spray paint

“Every time you victimized someone, you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you”.

Andy Weir "The Egg"

Boom acrylic, spray paint

past lives acrylic, spray paint

“Anyone who fights with monsters should take care that he does not in the process become a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss gazes back into you.”

Friedrich Nietzsche, "Beyond Good and Evil"

i see red oil, spray paint, broken cds

exhibited in “As She Should” at AM:PM Gallery in Brooklyn, NY

i am flesh, i am blood acrylic, collage, spray paint

exhibited in "Aura" at AM:PM Gallery in Brooklyn, NY

we fell together acrylic, spray paint

awake acrylic, spray paint, collage on stretched denim

the stars burned for us, and i will carry you with me forever.

until we meet again, in this life or the next.

Until we meet again acrylic, oil, spray paint

“Picture a wave in the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through, and it’s there, and you can see it, you know what it is. It’s a wave. And then it crashes on the shore, and it’s gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be for a little while. That’s one conception of death for a Buddhist. The wave returns to the ocean. Where it came from, and where it’s supposed to be.”

—Chidi to Eleanor (The Good Place)