Making art, pushing forward to tell a story that harbors deep in my heart but takes it’s time to take form. From the point where you are unable to describe your art to the point where you can’t stop talking about it. Then to a thought that if you keep talking keep typing about your art people will start thinking you as a self centered person. I just love making stuff. It has become more personal by passing years, an identity, a proof of existence. Now if I’m making stuff I’m making it for myself. Art has become my identity. Without it, I doubt my survival in a world like this. Art IS LIFE.















