PLAY

I did not grow up knowing how to play. I grew up learning how to be invisible—how to move quietly, how to disappear when needed, and how to hold my breath when the air got too heavy. I was taught that dreams were for other people. And so, I did not ask. I did not reach. I did not run.

But then, my nieces and nephew came along. They remind me of everything I once thought was impossible. They do not walk; they dance. They do not wait; they leap. They remind me that expression is not quiet, that curiosity is not a crime, that the world does not shrink when you reach for it—it expands.

This collection is about both the artist and the child. It is movement where there was once stillness, color where there was once fear. It is hands that once clenched, now open. A body that once froze, now learning how to move. A heart that once hesitated, now daring to take up space. These paintings are not just about play—they are about permission. About rewriting the rules I was given. About remembering that joy is not something I have to earn.