This body of work spans nearly a decade of painting, carried with me through shifting homes, cities, and seasons of life. Each piece was created in imperfect circumstances — on the floor of small kitchens, between long shifts, on canvases that felt too large or scraps of wood that felt too small. Together, they form an ongoing practice of persistence: a reminder that even when life gets messy, art remains.

I call them Soft Rebellions. They are quiet but insistent gestures of resistance: to stay tender in a world that asks for toughness, to embrace quirks instead of conformity, to keep making beauty in ordinary moments. They were painted without certainty, often without an audience, yet always with the belief that creating itself is an act worth continuing.

Some works lean tender, others playful or strange. Collectively, they read like fragments of an unwritten diary — stitched from memory, dream, observation, survival, and imagination.

Soft Rebellions is less about grand statements than it is about showing up honestly. It is a record of persistence, of letting images speak when words fell short, and of trusting that even the smallest acts of creativity carry meaning.