Before I ever picked up a paintbrush, life taught me the art of seeing—seeing the divine worth within me that makes it possible to recognize beauty in the mess all around me. I discovered my worth not in chasing perfection, but in surrendering to the Master Sculptor. His truth illuminated places I once tried to hide, and in that light, I found freedom.

None of us are handed a blank canvas. Each comes pre-layered with family lines, battle-worn textures, ugly heartbreaks, wild grace, and brilliant joy. For years, I saw my canvas as a hot mess of broken dreams. Now, I see it as the exact, custom-made journey shaping me into the masterpiece I was always meant to become.

My work is about herstory—the shared journey of women learning to see both the dust and the divinity in our own unique abstracts and in every sister around us. I call it “Seesterhood”—women who boldly SEE beneath the surface, who aren’t afraid to be deeply SEEN, and who SEE and love others the same way.

If my work feels intimate, it’s because it is. I paint Seesters—women who dare to say, “Come on in, look beneath the surface. I’m not perfect, and I don’t have to be. Into me, see.” Gloriously unfinished, already breathtaking. We are not picture-perfect ornaments, but radiant light-bearers—letting our mess become our message, our tests our testimony, as His love shines through every layer.

I create impressionistic portraiture layered inside wild, colorful abstracts. Each woman I paint is a witness of bold vulnerability and transformation—full of movement, story, and freedom. Unmasked and alive with raw beauty, layered emotion, and radiant light shining through imperfection, she embodies both the mess and the masterpiece.

I’m inspired by the sacred work of Seesters—women who SEE beauty where the world tells them to see flaws. Women who rise through fire, who stand radiant and faith-filled in a world obsessed with perfection. From the brave hearts in history to the Seesters I’ve walked beside, I’m moved by resilience, quiet strength, and daring honesty.

But I also paint for the Seesters still in the shadows—standing in the wreckage of shattered dreams, scrolling through picture-perfect portraits, feeling unseen. Women who wonder if their mess has any meaning, if their scars could ever tell a beautiful story, if their light has been lost.

To you, Seester—I say this: You are both dust and divine. You don’t have to be perfect to be powerful. Your scars are sacred. Your unfinished chapters are beautiful. You are already a radiant, breathing masterpiece, even in the messy middle.

 This is Seesterhood. We see each other. We see ourselves. We lift, we rise, we shine. I see you. Your life has meaning. You are the reason I paint.