Clay chose me, my hands, and my heart. My soul found solace in sculpting whatever grabs my heart. I found my hands creating representations of flowers, my interpersonal connections, my childhood memories, and the shapes of my emotional sensations. I found clay to be a doorway into exploring my cognitive patterns.

This medium gave me the ability to understand the textural qualities of shame, anger, depression, and happiness. Through the heavy, tactile process of sculpting this body of work, I gained a deeper understanding of the cognitive pathways I walk through during overwhelming sensations of grief, betrayal, and insecurity. sculpture became a doorway into self reflection, accountability, and a catalyst for mental growth.

I merge plant anatomy, somatic sensations of my emotive states, and architectural features. I create a symbolic visual language to desribe the diverse landscape of my idenitity. I relate my imperfect self to nature in a series of repetitve motifs. I have roots buried across mountains, forests and cities. so, my personality, attiudes and beliefs are constantly remolded like clay upon meeting each new place and person. Presenting me with everchanging orientations of the self