Portfolio of Works

My portraits reveal figures that surface through luminous pastels, bold patterns, and textured layers, evoking a sense of memory and emotion woven into every mark. I use sewing patterns, vintage fabrics, patterned papers, charcoal, and soft pastels—each material chosen for its tactile and symbolic resonance. In the early stages, my studio becomes a landscape of possibility, filled with piles of fabric scraps, aged paper, and found appliqués that speak in a kind of visual chatter. I dive into this vibrant chaos, letting intuition guide the placement of each element. Though the process begins in disorder, it gradually shifts toward balance—each piece evolving into a richly layered composition that maps the emotional and physical contours of the human figure.

My fascination with sewing patterns began the day my grandmother handed me an old box filled with vintage patterns, their edges worn soft with time. I laughed and told her, “But I don’t sew—at least, not well!” She smiled knowingly and said, “You’ll find a way to use them.” And she was right. As I opened the box, the delicate tissue sheets, covered in cryptic arrows, dashed lines, and faded instructions, felt like forgotten maps waiting to be reimagined. I immediately envisioned a figure emerging—not stitched from fabric, but drawn from memory and imagination—rising through those translucent layers. The charcoal I use now dances across these surfaces, shifting from bold to whisper-soft as it intersects the commands to measure, cut, and fold. The juxtaposition of the structured sewing language with the expressive human form creates a tension I find endlessly inspiring. That old box has become a kind of talisman; I return to it often, still discovering new ways it can speak through my work.

I found myself asking, “What if I broke my own rules? What if I let go of the figure and allowed the materials to take center stage?” That question opened the door to unexpected discovery—most of my creative breakthroughs begin exactly this way. In this series, I mapped the surface of each panel like an explorer, layering paper, fabric, vintage appliqués, and even delicate dried insects. Without the anchor of a figure, the materials themselves became the narrative—shaping a new kind of language. It was another journey through visual chaos, slowly shaped into a sense of quiet cohesion.