It means I’m quite literally using my hands to move through whatever life throws at me. The paint, the mess, the layers - they all hold pieces of my story. This is me working things out on canvas.

Because I’ve got perfectly good fingers. Fingertipping lets me connect to the canvas in a way that feels raw, real and instinctive - like emotion runs straight from skin to surface. It’s not about precision; it’s about presence.

Yep. Even the ones that don’t start out that way end up telling me something about myself. Sometimes I don’t even know what it’s about until it’s finished - then BAM, there’s the truth staring back at me.

Life isn’t one-note. There’s always stuff beneath the surface - old feelings, little wins, tangled memories. My paintings are built the same way. Every layer carries weight.

All. The. Time. And sometimes it stays that way because it still says something honest. Other times, I start again. That’s the beauty of this kind of work - it’s forgiving, even when I’m not.

Yes - but not the sit-in-a-circle-and-learn-techniques kind. These are about expression. They’re messy, tactile and emotional. I run them with all ages in schools and sometimes in community settings. It’s not about painting “well” - it’s about painting true. Shoot me a message if you’d like to chat more about workshops.

Yes. You can either tell me exactly what you love and what space it’s for… or you can go all in and let me paint your story without you dictating the outcome. (That second option’s a ride, but damn it’s worth it!). Check out the This Bits About You page for more info on commissions.

Somewhere between a woman possessed and a calm observer. There’s always music, paint on every surface and usually a coffee that I forgot to finish. And yes, I sing. Loud. And badly. But I’m convinced my work is better off for it.