Howdy! Though currently living in Boston, MA, My work is directly inspired by my own experience growing up as a queer, gender non-conforming artist in the homogeneous state of Arizona. I struggled to connect with those around me and felt ostracized and isolated due to my transgender identity. It felt like there was no place for people like me, in country music, rodeo, or otherwise. Though often hidden from mainstream media, the history of cowboys is at its heart, queer history. After all, where else but out on the plains (and on the fringes of society) could we find the freedom to love and live true?
It is important to me to look upon the death and decay that others would rather turn away from and to instead say “I see you”, and “To me, you are beautiful”. After all, death is one of the most natural parts of life. I find kinship in the beauty and the horror of rotting animals. Just like our act of living as transgender beings is often treated with fear, revulsion, and violence, I find solace in the immutable truth that we all come to rest in the cradle of the earth’s crust. We all turn to rot. And we all are immeasurably more beautiful for it. Challenging myself to find beauty where at first I might not see any has become an essential routine in not only my artistic practice –but also my own life. My work often feels as if it is balancing on the edge of a knife --to see violence and death as beautiful can be an uncomfortable feeling, but I believe it is important to be cognizant of our emotions, both good and bad.
Everything I paint is in service of uplifting the voices of my community! Selected works from my roadkill series are dedicated to different transgender people who has been murdered in the last year. A portion of the sales from these images are donated to various LGBTQ+ organizations working to support our queer youth across the USA. As of 10/30/2024, There are currently 662 anti-trans bills that seek to block trans people from receiving basic healthcare, education, legal recognition, and the right to publicly exist.
My work acts as a brutal reminder of the harshness of reality, a celebration of life, and a way to mourn my family.
