When I first started painting at the age of 14, I was single-mindedly driven by my love of
renaissance and baroque paintings; their theatrical compositions and narratives, as well
as the masterful handling of oil paint in every piece inspired me. I dedicated myself to
depicting black and brown figures in this classical style because the paintings from the
time periods I so loved did not meaningfully represent people of color. I thought that if I
just replaced the white bodies in these compositions with brown ones, I would be
"righting" the "wrongs" I was observing.

As I matured both as an artist and as a person, my academic studies deepened my
understanding of the complexities inherent in working within art historical traditions.
Moreover, I found that the simplistic approach I adopted in my early work to an uncanny
degree paralleled my inability to confront my deepest, most conflicted feelings about my
own sense of belonging as an Afro-Latina in the primarily white spaces I've occupied my
entire life. The rigorous examination of identity that emerged through my scholarly
pursuits forced me to confront not just what I was painting, but why and how I was
approaching these subjects. Growing up meant acknowledging that the tensions I felt
weren't simple problems to be solved through substitution, but rather complex
negotiations between heritage, belonging, and artistic expression that required more
nuanced exploration.

After this intensely rigorous examination of my identity and how it relates to my practice,
I'm no longer afraid to interrogate myself and my work. To this end, I now use traditional
oil painting techniques as a strategic device to encourage viewers to connect with my
figures, taking advantage of the medium’s unique ability to convey subtle expressions.
Drawing upon both historical narratives and anecdotal narratives of origin, identity, and
self-perception, I have returned to my roots twofold—exploring the history and folklore of my ancestors to serve as the main basis of content and context in my work, while
also reincorporating the western canon into my practice.

My current body of work centers on paintings created on mirrors, a choice that
necessitates both literal and theoretical self-examination. Working on these reflective
surfaces forces me to see myself within the work as I create it, making the process of
painting inseparable from the act of looking inward. This can be both painful and
beautiful—painful in its demand for unflinching honesty about identity and belonging,
beautiful in its potential for transformation and recognition. The mirrors serve as more
than just unconventional canvases; they become metaphors for the self-reflection
required to understand one's place within historical narratives that have long excluded
voices like mine. The mythologies I am working with necessarily reflect the impact of
Western colonialism on a people that still resonates today. Creating in this way is my
most authentic artistic expression, and allows me to put not just a face, but also a name,
to the people and stories I seek to elevate.