“Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise. I rise. I rise.”

— Maya Angelou, Still I Rise

ART

Butter (my intelligent, brave, and spunky 11 year old) was my entry into the art world. I have always encouraged all her interests and drawing has been one since she a toddler. As she got older, I got her paints and crafts but they weren’t much her jam. I figured I might as well use them as to not waste money. To my surprise, I enjoyed the creative process much more than I thought I would. Art has been such a lifesaving outlet for reparenting my inner child and coping through my depressive episodes, anxiety attacks, and most importantly processing grief.

Past Work