Born in the busy city of San Francisco, shrouded in the weekly blanket of fog. Intermittently mused by the maze of patterns surrounding. Drawn to how things are put together, which is emanated in the painting process.
Moved across the Golden Gate Bridge in the presence of the Sleeping Lady. The humming and squeaking of cars and buses during the night was replaced with the loud croaking of frogs and the whistling of the wind.
I got my first taste of finger paint in preschool. The cold starchy non-toxic finger paint did not taste too bad, although I soon found out it looked better on the paper than dripping down my chin.
Come college I found myself back in the city at Academy of Art, where my artistic seed sprouted. Now It seems all I have to follow are dreams.