I started painting in 2011 when I quit my day job.

Don’t they tell you not to quit your day job?

I didn’t listen to a lot of other things. Like the part about brushes. I often use my bare fingers and hands to structure layers of paint on the canvas. (Fine art finger painting!)

This self-taught technique of mucking about directly with the paint creates a deeply intimate relationship with my subject matter. Exploring nooks and planes and lovely lines of whatever I see is a treasure hunt, searching for the precious and the mysterious, discovering the crucial information that tells both creator and viewer something essential. Like, this here is where new ferns come in the spring; this here is where her skin is most tender.

My style is purposefully imprecise, honouring the visual experience of dream states, deep memory, and emotional intensity. Whatever drives me to the canvas, I want to share the feeling of it rather than present a report. Such liminality can unmoor an image, let it drift off, weightless; I anchor my paintings with deep attention to the nuance of colour and details of light in the natural world.

When I started painting, I painted fruit for a year. Just fruit. Then I was moved by the sights of my wanderings through beautiful British Columbia, and by my desire to express spirit through the landscape of the human body, and by the wild, magical, surreal stuff of dreams.

I did get a day job again. I worked as a marketing consultant with painting as a secondary career... until early 2026, when I suddenly found myself without a job once more.

The same week, I was invited into the artists’ collective at Parker Street Editions to produce exquisite fine art prints of my paintings. It means I can make my artwork more accessible to more art lovers and take a chance at pursuing my art career full time.

Coincidence? Luck? A message from the divine? I can’t tell. I also can’t ignore the call. This time, I’m listening.