Burnout. Ink. Possibly Feelings —What This is (and Isn’t)

This space was never meant to be a gallery. It began as a coping mechanism—quiet scribbles, loose watercolor washes, tangled lines that knew more than I did at the time. The art in here is raw, reflective, and a little rebellious. It doesn’t ask to be perfect. It asks to be honest.

Each collection in this space is like a map of my recovery—some pieces are quiet unravelings, others are unapologetic cries for help. All of it came from the realization that I needed peace.

You’re welcome to let it mean something—or nothing at all.

This isn’t “art,” not in the way most people define it.

What you’ll find here—across the tangled ink, the watery color, the soft geometry—isn’t meant to impress. It’s what happened when I couldn’t keep everything else together. When words stopped working. When I didn’t recognize myself in the life I was leading.

I didn’t make these pieces to display them.

I made them because I needed something to hold onto.

Something that helped me find my way back to myself—when I wasn’t sure I could.

At some point, the burnout got louder than everything else.

Not just stress—bone-deep, soul-numbing depletion.

The kind that makes you question whether you’re ever coming back.

And then, one day, I picked up a paintbrush.

Color came first.

Then lines.

Then a little stillness.

Then more color.

I started losing time—but in the best possible way.

Somehow, I was lighter again.

If you’re curious, the Visual Sanctuary series came first—gentle washes of color and repeating patterns that gave my nervous system something to lean on. Over time, the work shifted. The color stayed, but the lines began to reach further, twist deeper.

That’s where Ink & Intuition emerged—more raw, more layered. Less about soothing, more about sorting.

Together, they’ve become a kind of map. Not of where I was going exactly, but of how I slowly began to feel better.

You can explore both collections here:

➤ [Visual Sanctuary]

➤ [Ink & Intuition]