the origin
In the fall of 2020, my father was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer.
I had been a professional photographer my whole adult life. I thought that's how I would cope — documenting, freezing time. But I couldn't pick up my camera. And one day, in the middle of all of it — the grief, the fear, the exhaustion — I looked down, and there was a paintbrush in my hand.
I didn't choose it. Every morning I found myself at the kitchen table with a jar of water and a sketchbook — and for a few minutes, the panic would quiet.
What I didn't know then was that I wasn't just painting. I was finding my way back to myself. To the part of me that could still notice beauty. Still feel something. Still be here.
I made something out of that experience — to share with you, if your way of seeing the world is anything like mine.