My art exists in the tension between beauty and tragedy—like a car crash on a cool fall night. It is raw and often horrific in subject matter, yet it carries a strange warmth, offering a kind of comfort through its intensity. I create unapologetically, interpreting emotion as I feel it and receiving others' reactions as an extension of that dialogue. Each title I give my work is deeply intimate, drawn from the quiet, reflective spaces that exist in our most vulnerable moments. This intimacy is reflected in both my films and photography. My photographs blend portraiture, landscape, and surreal abstraction, exploring the psyche and the hidden emotions we often suppress. The abstract pieces, in particular, dive deep into the forgotten corners of the mind, pulling forth the parts of ourselves we deny. My films—whether narrative or documentary—are shaped by a raw, emotional understanding of the world and its often-overlooked horrors. I don’t aim to make my work easy to digest; I aim to make it honest.

I do not create solely for myself. My work is for the underdogs—the forgotten, the broken, and the lonely. It is created out of love and a desire to foster connection and understanding. My art is brutal, sexual, sad, and thought-provoking, but within that rawness lies the potential for empathy. I want to bring people onto the same emotional plane, to create a shared space of recognition and healing. I try my best to bridge lives, to let empathy rise from shared pain. I love people; I love watching them grow and seeing understanding take root where there once was none. We may not all suffer in the same way, but we all suffer. Why isolate that pain when we could use it to bring each other closer? My goal is to bridge lives through vulnerability—to show others that they are not alone. I create because I have to, because staying silent is not an option, and because if even one person feels seen through my work, then I’ve done what I was meant to do.