16x40

The first time I rode to a foster home, a small part of me still hoped for safety and acceptance. The next ride, in the heat with the seat sticking to my legs, that hope felt gone. I decided that choosing to be alone would hurt less than being left, and I wore that decision like armor for years. People called me strong, but the truth was simpler: I was afraid, depressed, and protecting myself from wanting love I didn’t believe I could keep.

Nature began to teach me otherwise. Roots tangle and share, trees lean and lift; nothing grows in isolation. I learned that real strength is not hardening, but opening, letting myself be held and, when I can, doing the holding.

The Giving Root embodies that exchange. The textured edges map the scrapes of the climb: setbacks, pauses, seasons when growth stalls. In the center, forms rise and stretch, reminding me that renewal is possible. There are days we reach up for a hand, and days we become the hand. Both are necessary. When we survive our darkest seasons, our task is to remember and to extend that same strength outward. This work is my reminder that we are bound to one another and that together, we grow.

20x20 inches

Fossilized Forest speaks to what endures when time erodes all else. The forest lives on, not in leaves or branches, but in stone. Every vein of bark, every scar of wood, kept in quiet permanence. It is a memory and a monument, a place that once reached for light and now rests as an eternal imprint. Even in stillness, even in what seems unchanging, the story of survival is written into the earth. If you stand at a certain point in front of this painting, you will see a faint shadow of a thriving tree that once was. The new leaves I added represent growth atop what is gone. I created this piece as a reminder to honor what has passed as we look toward what is to come, because without one, we could not have the other.