Through drawing and mixed media, I work from memory, emotion, and instinct to explore what it feels like to live in a body shaped by both joy and fear, power and vulnerability.

I grew up in a household ruled by control. My father demanded perfection; there was no space for failure, softness or creativity. Even as a small child, I had a strong sense of that injustice. A quiet rebellion hardened into something that still drives me now: a refusal to stay small, and a need to speak truth through images.

In my late teens and twenties I swung hard in the other direction. The 90s and noughties were years of chaotic hedonism, when my world cracked open and it seemed like I was finally allowed to feel. My mind was blown by flamboyant queens in Edinburgh’s gay clubs, the driving bass and the sweaty abandon of the dancefloors, where all were free to be themselves.  

Now my practice sits somewhere between those extremes. I’ve moved away from controlled realism toward a more instinctive language, led by emotion. A recurring female figure appears throughout - part self-portrait, part invention - born from the highs and lows of my youth. She holds both glamour and grief, she’s untamed and defiant.

My colours are bold and kitsch, but drawing is at the heart of everything I do. The shaky, urgent line feels like the truth, it’s where I’m exploring the painful, beautiful, process of becoming; a place where my past, present, and future selves can finally meet.