this year has been the brightest and darkest year of my life.
a year made of neon and hospital light.
a year of surreal color and very real fear.
a year where i became a mother and, in many ways, a new version of myself as an artist too.

for most of 2025, i’ve been creating inside this electric, psychedelic, surrealist world ... the one many of you have come to recognize as my signature “neon portal” style. vivid, saturated, melting. a little dreamy, a little haunted. a place where everything feels like it’s vibrating with emotion.

what i haven’t always said out loud is why i stayed in that world for so long.

my son was born two months early.
my pregnancy was rough: physically, mentally, spiritually.
severe preeclampsia, emergency interventions, almost two weeks in the hospital. there were moments when i truly didn’t know if i would walk out of that building alive. and then came nicu: the beeping machines, the waiting, the praying, the fear that sat on my chest like a second heartbeat.

during that time, art became oxygen.
creating those neon, surreal worlds gave me a place to breathe when my real world felt like it was closing in.

the style that many of you loved was the style that held me together.

those bright colors were a rebellion against the sterility of hospital rooms.
those psychedelic shapes were my way of processing the parts i couldn’t say out loud.
those surreal scenes were escape hatches, portals i could step into while my body and heart were both trying to heal.

this style offered me comfort, distraction, wonder, and space.
but like all things born from survival, there comes a moment when you look at it and realize: i don’t live there anymore.

as i move toward the end of 2025, i’ve decided it’s time to retire this neon dreamscape. not abandon it, it will always be part of my story... but close it gently, like a chapter that did its job and carried me through something i wasn’t sure i’d make it through.

for everyone who’s appreciated this era and connected with it, i’m grateful in ways i can’t even fully express. the support and resonance made this healing journey feel communal instead of isolating.

most of the work from this style is available as coins on zora, and for the next month, i’ll be releasing the final pieces of this series. little love letters to the version of me who created through the pain.

after that, i’m moving forward.
back to some of my older roots: digital collage, digital oil painting, textured work.
and maybe even bringing my traditional art onchain in interesting ways?!

i’m ready to explore whatever new visual language arrives next.

this year has been the brightest and darkest year of my life.
a year made of neon and hospital light.
a year of surreal color and very real fear.
a year where i became a mother and, in many ways, a new version of myself as an artist too.

for most of 2025, i’ve been creating inside this electric, psychedelic, surrealist world ... the one many of you have come to recognize as my signature “neon portal” style. vivid, saturated, melting. a little dreamy, a little haunted. a place where everything feels like it’s vibrating with emotion.

what i haven’t always said out loud is why i stayed in that world for so long.

my son was born two months early.
my pregnancy was rough: physically, mentally, spiritually.
severe preeclampsia, emergency interventions, almost two weeks in the hospital. there were moments when i truly didn’t know if i would walk out of that building alive. and then came nicu: the beeping machines, the waiting, the praying, the fear that sat on my chest like a second heartbeat.

during that time, art became oxygen.
creating those neon, surreal worlds gave me a place to breathe when my real world felt like it was closing in.

the style that many of you loved was the style that held me together.

those bright colors were a rebellion against the sterility of hospital rooms.
those psychedelic shapes were my way of processing the parts i couldn’t say out loud.
those surreal scenes were escape hatches, portals i could step into while my body and heart were both trying to heal.

this style offered me comfort, distraction, wonder, and space.
but like all things born from survival, there comes a moment when you look at it and realize: i don’t live there anymore.

as i move toward the end of 2025, i’ve decided it’s time to retire this neon dreamscape. not abandon it, it will always be part of my story... but close it gently, like a chapter that did its job and carried me through something i wasn’t sure i’d make it through.

for everyone who’s appreciated this era and connected with it, i’m grateful in ways i can’t even fully express. the support and resonance made this healing journey feel communal instead of isolating.

most of the work from this style is available as coins on zora, and for the next month, i’ll be releasing the final pieces of this series. little love letters to the version of me who created through the pain.

after that, i’m moving forward.
back to some of my older roots: digital collage, digital oil painting, textured work.
and maybe even bringing my traditional art onchain in interesting ways?!

i’m ready to explore whatever new visual language arrives next.