Artist, Creator, Outlaw

Born in South Florida, shaped by the South, and forged somewhere in between — I’m a multidisciplinary artist working across painting, drawing, photography, jewelry, fashion accessories, and whatever medium feels like it’s calling me next.

But more than that, I’m an aunt! And that’s the thread that quietly runs through everything I do.

I grew up caught between two worlds — the Bible Belt on one side, backwoods on the other — always trying to find where I fit in the middle of all that contrast. My childhood wasn’t picture-perfect. It was layered with tension, transition, and learning how to create my own sense of stability when things around me didn’t always feel steady. So I created. I drew. I sewed. I built little worlds in my attic where things made sense. Where I could take scraps — fabric, emotions, moments — and turn them into something meaningful. Even back then, I didn’t fully realize it, but I was already learning how to survive through creativity. 

I wore a lot of hats: graphic designer, muralist, bartender, catering manager, optician technician, office manager, skincare entrepreneur, and more. I had a painting hang in Butterfield Garage Art Gallery a St. Augustine, FL. I studied fine art at SCAD in Atlanta and earned my Bachelor's degree in Business Supervision and Management. On paper, it looked like I was building something solid. But behind the scenes, I was still figuring things out the hard way. 

Then everything changed — my apartment was raided, and I was arrested for selling cannabis — and I spent a full year incarcerated for it. A year… for something that’s now sold legally in storefronts across the country.

But even in that moment — especially in that moment — I refused to lose myself. I built something instead. Inside those walls, with nothing but what I could get my hands on, I started an underground art operation. I started out by trading cartoon pen drawings for honey buns and shampoo. I eventually graduated to painting family portraits using crushed M&M shells as pigment. Ten Snickers bars per portrait. And people risked their money and freedom to pay me, because even in a place where everything feels stripped away, art still mattered. Connection still matters. I even had a correctional officer ask me to draw her portrait on the spot! No brushes. No canvas. No traditional tools. Just imagination and determination. There’s an irony in getting arrested for selling something illegal… and then running an underground art operation where even art was contraband. I’ve always found a way to deliver what people want — but more importantly, I’ve always stood on what I believe in. I believe in cannabis, and I paid the price for it. I believed in art, and I risked that too. Some things are worth the risk.

When I wasn’t making art, I was helping other women write appeal letters to judges — women who just wanted another chance, the same way I did. One of those letters worked. I watched her walk out early. That moment stuck with me. Because even though it didn’t change my outcome… it reminded me that impact isn’t always about you.

What grounded me through all of it — before, during, and after — was my family. I just wanted my freedom back so I could hug them again. They gave me something steady to hold onto. A reason to keep going. A reminder of who I wanted to be on the other side of everything. They didn’t need a perfect version of me. They just needed me to come back stronger. And I did.

I served the full year.
I finished my degree.
I completed five years of probation.
I got myself a corporate job.

And when I got out, I chose not to hide from my story — I stepped directly back into it. I became a budtender. Because there was nowhere else I’d rather be than on the right side of something that once cost me a year of my life.

Today, I continue to build — just differently.
I freelance as an artist.
I am the Executive Assistant for a home staging and design company in Atlanta, GA.
I am the Marketing Director for a home building construction company and a fashion line in Jacksonville, FL.
And when the right wall finds me, I still paint murals.

My life isn’t one straight line — it’s a collection of experiences, lessons, risks, and rebuilds. And somehow, all of it feeds into the work I create.

A portion of every piece I sell goes to the Last Prisoner Project — because there are still thousands of people sitting in cells for the same thing I did legally, while the rest of us get to live freely. That doesn’t sit right with me. So I create with purpose. Everything I make carries a story. Not just mine — but pieces of resilience, second chances, creativity under pressure, and finding beauty in unexpected places. And part of my proceeds also go to my nieces and nephews’ college funds, so that my work can help build their futures too. For me, that’s what this has always been about. Creating something my family can look at one day and say, “She went through all of that… and still made something beautiful.”

The Honey Buns & Snickers Bars Collection

(If you know, you know)