This piece is a reflection on the intensity of queer connection, and the quiet ache that can come from surrendering too soon.
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There’s tenderness here, but also tension—the kind that comes from placing your heart in someone else’s hands and hoping they’ll know what to do with it.

The strokes are impulsive and layered, like a love letter written too quickly, or a life restructured around someone not yet fully known.This work is about the beauty and danger of moving fast: the sweetness of connection, the thrill of trust, and the quiet question that lingers beneath it all—what am I risking in being this open, this soon?

This piece explores the quiet unraveling of identity tied to appearance. The figure holds a flame close—hovering between memory and release. For me, hair once felt like an extension of self: a way to communicate softness, style, control. As it began to fall away, I was confronted with how much I had anchored my sense of personhood to something so outward, so changeable.

These mermaids are not the guardians of idyllic oceans—they are the haunted witnesses of a world unraveling. Born from rising tides and melting ice, their bodies bear the marks of a changing planet. Their scales shimmer with oil slicks and microplastics; their hair tangles in seaweed and waste. They drift not through fantasy, but through consequence.This piece reimagines mermaids as symbols of environmental grief and feminine resilience—mythical beings forced to adapt or disappear. Their beauty is stained, but still present, echoing the way nature fights to endure even as it’s poisoned. They don’t sing to lure sailors—they cry for coastlines, coral reefs, and the lost rhythms of the sea.It’s a reflection on complicity, survival, and the silent mythologies we carry into crisis. A reminder that even our most sacred fantasies aren’t immune to collapse.

Concept Sketches Digital and Tradictional