I was born on August 23rd, 1991 in Pasadena, California. At the age of three years old, my parents, sister and I moved to Maui, Hawaii, after the Northridge earthquake and the LA riots.

I have been creating art my whole life. But it wasn't until the end of high school when I started taking it seriously.  A friend and I would mess around with spray paint, creating large work in a good amount of time.  That’s when I realized this wasn't just something I did. It was something I needed to do.

Even then, doubt crept in. I had heard the rumors: that a life in art was an easy way to go broke. After my first year at Orange Coast College, I took a screen printing class that changed everything. I declared Fine Arts as my major and never looked back.  After completing my General Education at OCC, I transferred up to Cal Poly Pomona.  I had a couple professors at CPP that pushed me hard — especially to take risks and to break out of the single style I had been clinging to out of fear. I was beginning to understand that the risk was the whole point.

During my first semester at CPP, my mother passed away. Losing my mother was surreal and devastating at the same time. That loss shook something loose in me. Grief has a way of making you stop caring about the "sensible" path. This pushed me to really lean deeper into the work. I took the risks. I stopped waiting.

I finished my Bachelor of Fine Arts at Cal Poly Pomona — and right as I crossed that finish line, I underwent brain surgery.  For a couple of years before the surgery, I would have some moments where i wouldn’t understand what people were saying, almost like I was living in a dream where nothing made sense.  I then had a mass seizure, which led me to the hospital, and the MRI found a golf-ball-sized mass in my brain’s temporal lobe.  Lying in recovery, I thought about what actually mattered. Not someday. Not eventually. Life moves fast, and one day it will be gone. Why spend it on anything other than what you love?

The answer, for me, has always been art.

My first real gallery experience came in 2018 at the Signature Art Gallery on Front Street in Lahaina, Maui. I still remember driving home after my first live art session there — windows down, no particular destination — when "Dream On" by Aerosmith came on the radio. I pulled over on the side of the road, screamed, and cried. I felt like I had finally made it.

Three months later, the gallery shut down.

A week after that, I showed up to Front Street at 5 am, set up my paintings around my Toyota Tacoma, and started painting. I was painting for about four hours and had the chance to meet some great people.  Then, the police arrived and let me know that what I was doing was illegal. As one officer was writing me a ticket, he looked up and said, "Why don't you just put your art in one of the galleries?" It was, against all odds, good advice.

A man I met that morning knew the director of the De Rubeis Fine Art of Metal gallery, which was moving into the space. He made a call, and I got my foot in the door. At first, only when I was doing live art sessions, but I showed up every chance I got. After a couple of months, they gave me my own wall. Then came the call about my first sale: a 36" x 48" painting of Jimi Hendrix. I was over the moon.

Then COVID hit, and nearly everything on the island shut down.

I took a breath and got back to work. A friend mentioned that the Schaefer Portrait Challenge at the MACC had been pushed back a year, which meant I had time to prepare. I painted three large 48" x 60" pieces. One was accepted into the show. Just being part of it felt like a significant step forward.

After COVID, my style continued to evolve. My sales grew. My walls in the gallery grew. Things were finally moving the way I had always hoped.

Then, on August 8th, 2023, the Maui wildfires tore through Lahaina. Front Street — the street where I had set up at 5am, the street where I had painted and sold and dreamed — burned to the ground. I lost ten paintings in the fire. My father's retirement home in Kula, the house I grew up in, also burned.

It was devastating for the entire island. But the peopl of Maui put in the work. We came together. And I started thinking about the next chapter.

A friend working at a gallery in Key West reached out, and I was able to put my art up on their walls. That summer, I flew out, put in a couple weeks of live art, and fell in love with the energy of that town — There was music playing at restaurants and bars all day and night, a scooter was the only transportation I needed - it was a culture that takes art seriously. Things eventually shifted me toward The Monarch Gallery of Key West, a newer space with an energy I immediately connected with. Around the same time, I was invited to show my work at The Enchantress and Freeborne Gallery in Wailea, Maui.

The two galleries pushed my work in different directions — just the challenge I needed. Monarch became home to my pop art and celebrity series, while Enchantress encouraged me to explore a more local, floral, surreal style. I have always been a fan of Pablo Picasso for his ability to completely reinvent himself across styles and eras, and of Salvador Dalí for the technical mastery and psychological depth behind every piece. I have spent years trying to take in those lessons and build something that is entirely my own.

I am currently accepting commissions and never shy away from a challenge. The more unexpected the request, the more interested I am.

By day, I am a Drawing & Painting teacher at Maui High School — a job I landed after four years of teaching Photography while waiting to gain tenure in my true subject. Working with my students constantly reminds me of who I once was. Their experiments in front of a blank canvas. Their frustration when something doesn't come out right. Their surprise when it does. Those kids are a mirror. And they remind me that I am better than I think, and that there is always more to learn.

Life has a way of reminding you what matters. I have been reminded more than once. I plan to spend whatever time I have left creating.