I am a principal, a mother, and a painter.

My life as an educator has been rooted in the pursuit of equity, working every day to create spaces where all students have access, opportunity, and a sense of belonging. Yet, even in that work, there is a constant tension. The feeling that no matter how much I give, it is never enough. That I am always chasing something just out of reach. That gap between what I believe humans deserve and what I can realistically provide has shaped me.

Art became the place where that tension could live honestly.

About a year and a half ago, in a cold train station, wearing my winter coat, I picked up a piece of plywood, a pencil, and some paint. I drew a heart. I did not fully understand why, but something in me needed it. That piece, later titled No Trespassing, marked the beginning of a practice that has since become both an outlet and a mirror. Through painting, I began uncovering, covering, and healing parts of myself that had long been buried under responsibility, expectation, and survival.

My work explores memory, movement, and meaning through layered mixed media compositions. Using acrylic, spray paint, collage, text, and found imagery, I build surfaces that reflect lived experience, complex, interrupted, and continually evolving. Each piece is created through accumulation, revision, and response. Layers are added, altered, and sometimes obscured, reflecting how identity is not formed in a single moment, but shaped over time.

Process is essential to my work. I do not hide mistakes. I honor them. Drips, erasures, fragments, and overlaps remain visible as evidence of persistence. The surface becomes a record of decisions, of tension between control and release. Growth, like the work, is not linear. It is messy, interrupted, and real.

Text is a central element in my pieces. Words appear as fragments, echoes of music, leadership, place, and personal history. Some are bold and immediate. Others are buried or partially hidden. Meaning exists as much in what is revealed as in what is withheld. I invite viewers to slow down, to look closer, to find themselves within the layers.

There are recurring symbols in my work that carry deep personal meaning. The heart, present from my very first piece, represents emotional navigation, vulnerability, and the complexity of human experience. Black and white checker patterns, drawn from the Vans I have worn for years, appear throughout my compositions. Those shoes have carried me through divorce, motherhood, leadership, heartbreak, and growth. They have also been a source of judgment, seen as unprofessional or out of place in the spaces I occupy. But they are mine. They represent authenticity, movement, and the refusal to conform to expectations that do not honor who I am.

My Vans tell a story. And so does my work.

Cultural references, music, and Kansas City influences are woven throughout my pieces, grounding abstract emotion in shared experience. These elements are not nostalgic. They are connective. They acknowledge that who we are is shaped by where we have been, who we have encountered, and what we have carried with us.

Over the past several months, my output has reflected the rhythm of my life, fast, intense, and relentless. There are periods where I create multiple pieces in a week, followed by moments of stillness where I feel stuck. But even in those pauses, something is working beneath the surface. Eventually, I return, and the work continues. Each piece, Surface Tension, Manipulation, Mars, Pursuit, Halfway There, marks a moment, a question, or a realization.

Art, for me, began as something I gave away, donated to fundraisers, created to bring joy to others. That instinct to serve and uplift is deeply tied to who I am as an educator. But over time, I began to recognize that this work was also for me. That it held value beyond generosity. That it was not just a release, but a voice.

Influenced by artists and thinkers who emphasize authenticity and self discovery, I have come to understand that showing up fully, messy, imperfect, and real, is the work. It requires letting go, confronting hard truths, and learning to value yourself in spaces that may not always recognize you.

This is what my art holds.

At its core, my work is about becoming. It is about forward motion without guarantees. About roots, pathways, and ascent, not as destinations, but as ongoing processes. It reflects the belief that growth is built through persistence, vulnerability, and the willingness to keep going, even when clarity is absent.

I do not create finished answers.

I create moments, markers of where I have been, what I have felt, and who I am becoming.

And through that, I hope others find space to do the same.