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My Story

Born from Seemingly Insignificant Seeds

When Forests Turn to Chaos

On golden afternoons on California's Central Coast, marmalade orange butterflies would flit through the air and fill the skies like candy to the eyes! Now, the idyllic world I grew up in no longer exists, and the monarchs, too, are declining in a precipitous dip.


First, the worn dirt road that flooded each winter became a sweltering mass of asphalt, casting mirages in drought. Then, it was followed by miles of Eucalyptus trees decimated for an overwatered golf course and million-dollar estates.


A Growing Disconnection

As years passed and urbanization crept in, coyote odes to moonlight, frog songs under rainfall, and the migratory dance of

wings dwindled. 

I stared in disbelief as I saw people park in multi-car driveways lined with fake grass and painted wood chips, using bottles of weedkiller to subdue what little remnants of nature survived beneath the concrete! At this point, my mom called me "tree hugger," and my dad suggested the changes were how

the world operated.

small pink flowers vector

The desire for preservation painted me as an illogical being. Yet, I continued raising thousands of plants for the rest of my childhood, believing in our capacity for change.

female Floral street art
female Floral street art
flower vector

Recognizing Inner Wisdom

Life continued into adulthood, and I moved to a city where daily air quality warnings alerted people to toxic fumes that choked and overpowered.  Finally, it  became apparent that things would worsen should our relationship with nature remain one of dominance and control.

Akin to indigenous perspectives, I now view my rural knowledge as a way of helping others cultivate a more harmonious human-Earth relationship in light of the global ecological crisis. 


With Sweeping Brushstrokes

I play with paint, recording my insights in the form of surrealism. My creations depict nature as sentient instead of objects of manipulation, inviting viewers to look closely through

child-like eyes.


Ultimately, I forgive the people who cut down the trees because they know not what they do. While the sweet symphony of life whispers today in a ghostly echo of its former glory, I'm so glad more people are tuning in.

Thank you,

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