MY THIRD SELF-PORTRAIT: 2025—MY METAMORPHOSIS, MY BECOMING

January 18, 2025

This year’s self-portrait marks the third painting in my Self Portrait Project, and in many ways, it feels like the most transformative piece yet. Looking at it now, I can’t help but feel like this painting captures not only the evolution of my artistic style but also the profound personal growth I’ve experienced over the past year.

I approached this portrait differently than the last two. I wanted it to reflect this strange yet interesting metamorphosis I’ve been going through. A shedding of old layers, an emergence of someone wiser, healthier, and more self-assured. In this painting, I chose to depict my face within my face, the features morphing together in a way that suggests an inner version of myself still lingering. But instead of clinging to the past, this portrait shows the healthier, more authentic version of me coming through, taking center stage.

One of my favorite things about this piece is the color palette. While it’s rooted in stark black and white, the subtle pops of fuchsia and teal breathe life into her. These colors feel symbolic of the journey I’ve been on. They’re soft but striking, like little bursts of light breaking through the darkness. The brushstrokes are bold, deliberate, and unapologetic, reflecting the confidence I’ve started to reclaim. The swirling lines around my face feel almost like a cocoon, unraveling to reveal something new and beautiful.
It’s a metamorphosis—a moment of becoming.

During this year, I turned 27, and in ten days, I’ll be a month shy of one year sober. That’s a sentence I never imagined writing. I used to drink every day and was the biggest party animal, convinced I couldn’t function without it. But 2024 was the year I decided I wasn’t going to join the “27 Club.” I got sober, stayed away from white lighters (just to prove a strange point to myself), and made it through the year stronger than I ever thought I could. It’s insane to think about, but it’s also one of the accomplishments I’m most proud of. This painting is a testament to that.

Looking at this portrait, I see someone who’s grown up a bit. My face feels more defined; I don’t look like a kid anymore. There’s a maturity in the features, a confidence in the gaze. I spent this past year getting comfortable with myself, settling into a new place, and embracing my passions. Painting, gallery hopping, meeting new people, cooking, reading, spending time with loved ones—these things have become the foundation of my happiness. I finally feel like I’m living a life that’s true to who I am.

As I enter the beginning of 2025, I can’t help but feel excited. There’s an energy about this year that feels different, like it’s going to be a turning point.
My painting has gotten better, I’ve gotten better, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I know who I am. This self-portrait captures that feeling—of transformation, of growth, of stepping into the future with hope and determination.

Here’s to 2025: my year, my metamorphosis, my becoming.

My Second Self-Portrait: 2024—Climbing Out of the Darkness

October 17, 2024

When I look at this second self-portrait in my Self Portrait Project, I see so much more than just two faces staring back at me. Painted in early 2024, this piece captured a pivotal moment in my life—a time when I was desperately trying to pull myself out of the darkness I had been living in. The summer of 2023 had wrecked me in ways I never imagined. I had finally moved out of Colorado, escaping the state that had drained my spirit, and landed in Asbury Park, New Jersey, which felt like a new beginning. But that new chapter didn’t start as smoothly as I had hoped.

I won't go into the long story, but the reality was, I was a mess. I had fucked up my life that previous summer, badly. My relationship was hanging by a thread, if it hadn’t already failed, and the holidays? Let’s just say they were some of the worst I’ve ever had. I wasn’t in a place to talk about it then, and honestly, I’m still not. But the pain, confusion, and self-doubt I was feeling needed an outlet, and this painting became exactly that.

At the time, I felt ugly—both inside and out. My self-worth was buried so deep that I couldn’t even recognize the person I was anymore. This painting wasn’t just an artistic exercise—it was my way of reminding myself who I was. It was a declaration to myself that I was still here, still capable of creating something beautiful, even when I didn’t feel that way. The duality in the two faces reflects that struggle—one face looking forward, determined to reclaim my sense of self, while the other stares ahead, still lost in the mess of emotions I was carrying with me.

It’s now October 2024, and I’m writing about this portrait nearly nine months after I painted her. Time gives you a different perspective, doesn’t it?
As I look back on this piece, I can’t help but feel like my ego was a little inflated—there’s something almost audacious about painting myself twice in the same self-portrait. It’s as if I was shouting into the void, trying to convince myself that I was still worthy, still powerful, despite everything falling apart around me. I’m not sure if this is my favorite self-portrait anymore, but I do see the significance of it. This painting is a snapshot of a woman trying so hard to climb out of the shell she had lived in for so long.

During the time I painted this, I knew deep down that I was entering a new chapter. I had hit rock bottom, and I didn’t want to stay there. I wanted to feel pretty again—not in a superficial way, but in the sense of feeling whole, of reclaiming my confidence. I was tired of feeling lost, tired of feeling broken, and tired of living in the shadow of who I knew I could be. This self-portrait is a reflection of me trying to piece together all the shattered parts of myself, to be better, to grow, and to finally start getting my life together.

I can see in this painting that I was trying to do more for myself. The colors, the intricacies in the brushstrokes, and the choice to portray myself in a more empowered light all speak to that desire for change. The ornate frame surrounding the painting feels almost regal, like I was trying to wrap myself in something precious, something valuable—because deep down, I wanted to remember that I was worth the effort.

Now, as 2024 draws to a close, I look at this portrait with new eyes. It may not be my favorite anymore, but it holds a place of deep significance in my heart. It represents the moment when I made the conscious decision to turn things around. I was on the brink of what I now call my “get my fucking shit together” chapter. This painting marked the start of my journey toward healing and growth, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

I’m grateful for this self-portrait, even with its imperfections, because it shows me exactly where I was—emotionally, mentally, and artistically. And it serves as a reminder that we all have the power to change, to evolve, and to create something new from the rubble of what’s been broken.

This project continues to be about more than just paint on glass. It’s about capturing the essence of who I am, year by year, moment by moment. And this second self-portrait from 2024 is a testament to the fact that even in our lowest moments, there’s still beauty to be found, and strength to be gained, if we’re willing to look for it.

The Beginning of the Self Portrait Project: 2023

October 17, 2024

In the winter of 2023, 25 years old, I sat down to paint what would become the first piece in my Self Portrait Project. I was living in Denver, Colorado, a place that had begun to feel like a cage. I knew in my bones that I needed to leave, but I wasn’t sure where I was heading or how I was going to get there. At that time, I lived alone in my apartment, dedicating myself entirely to my art. I was painting full-time, chasing that elusive feeling of knowing you’re on the right path, even when everything around you feels uncertain.

This self-portrait is a reflection of that moment—a snapshot of my inner world and my artistic journey as it stood. The brushstrokes in this painting are thick, almost sculptural, as if I was carving myself out of the paint. There’s an airy quality to the texture, a looseness that mirrored my own feelings of drifting in life. I thought it would be fun, and maybe a little ironic, to paint myself painting myself. It became a meta-commentary on how, at that time, I was trying to figure out who I was as an artist, while also trying to understand who I was as a person.

When I painted this, I was immersed in portraiture. Faces fascinated me—the way they could express so much with just a glance or a shadow. During that season, I was deep into working on a Kurt Cobain portrait, exploring the complexities of emotion in his expression, trying to capture the raw, tortured genius that he represented. I wanted my portraits to feel alive, to carry the weight of a person’s story in every stroke.

At the same time, I was experimenting with something completely different—what would become my "string paintings." This was a breakthrough period for me, creatively. The string paintings represented an entirely new way for me to engage with texture, form, and movement. Looking back, this era was one of bold experimentation. It was a time when I was finding my artistic voice, trying new techniques, and constantly pushing the boundaries of what I thought I could create.

But even amidst this creative surge, there was an underlying sense of fear. I didn’t feel at home in Colorado. I was landlocked, suffocated by the mountains that surrounded me, and I knew I needed to move—to somewhere that felt more like me. I was restless, itching to be near the ocean, where I’d always felt a pull. I hated Colorado. It felt like a place I had outgrown, but I wasn’t quite sure how to take the next step. I was scared of the unknown, yet equally afraid of staying stuck where I was. I knew I had to keep creating, keep moving forward—because the only way out of that fear was through my art.

During this time, I had just returned from a trip to New York City with my long-distance boyfriend. I was also preparing for my first major gallery show, which, despite my uncertainties, was a huge milestone for me as an artist. It felt like a validation of the countless hours I had spent alone in my apartment, pouring myself into my work. Yet even with that success on the horizon, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being lost.

A reflection within a reflection.

It’s funny in hindsight, but it felt symbolic at the time, as if I was trying to get to the core of who I was, layer by layer. Each year, as I continue this Self Portrait Project, I’ll look back at this first piece with new eyes—seeing not only who I was, but who I was becoming in that moment. There’s a rawness to this painting, a vulnerability that I couldn’t fully appreciate at the time, but which now feels like a pivotal point in my artistic journey.

Looking back, I see more than just the face staring back at me. I see the fear of not knowing what’s next. I see the excitement of creative breakthroughs and the desire to push through the limits of what I knew. I see a 25-year-old artist grappling with her place in the world but refusing to give up. It’s a moment captured in oil paint, thick and textural, where each brushstroke tells a story of where I was then—scared, hopeful, restless, and determined.

This is the start of the Self Portrait Project, an annual tradition where I’ll continue to document my journey, not just as an artist, but as a human being navigating the ups and downs of life.

Thank you for being part of this process with me. Whether you’ve been following my work for a while or are just discovering it, I invite you to come along for the ride.

Welcome: The Self Portrait Project: An Annual Exploration of Art, Time, and Self

October 17, 2024

The Self Portrait Project: An Annual Exploration of Art, Time, and Self

As an artist, I've always found it fascinating how our work evolves, reflecting not just changes in technique but deeper shifts in who we are. Art, in its most powerful form, serves as a mirror—not just of the world around us, but of our own journey through time. That idea is at the heart of my latest creative endeavor, the Self Portrait Project: a personal tradition where, each January, I will sit down with my oil paints and create a self-portrait, capturing my face, my emotions, and my artistic voice at that very moment.

This project is more than just a series of portraits. It’s a visual diary, a timeline, and a meditation on the passage of growth and change. With each stroke of paint, I’m not only rendering the features I see in the mirror, but I’m also reflecting the changes that come with living, aging, and evolving as a person and as an artist.

Why the Self Portrait Project?

I started this project because I wanted a way to see myself grow—not just physically, but in my craft. There’s something uniquely intimate about painting your own face, year after year. It forces you to confront yourself, to look deeper into the small changes that happen over time—the lines that slowly form, the way your eyes might hold a different kind of emotion, and how your outlook on life inevitably seeps into your art.

But beyond the surface, it’s a way for me to document my artistic evolution. Each year’s portrait will reveal not just who I am, but also how my style changes with time. Will I favor bold, dramatic strokes one year, and soft, delicate details the next? Will my palette shift from moody dark tones to bright, ethereal hues? Will I become more abstract or move towards realism? The exciting part is that I don’t know. Each year brings with it new experiences, challenges, and emotions, and those will all manifest in the way I approach the glass.

The Process: Watching Myself Grow Through Oil Paint

Painting a self-portrait is an incredibly vulnerable experience. You’re your own subject, critic, and observer. It requires you to look closely at your own reflection—not just the image in the mirror, but the person beneath it. As I sit down to create each annual self-portrait, I’m faced with the reality of time passing, both in the details of my appearance and in the subtle ways my personality, my emotions, and my experiences leave their mark.

Over time, this series of portraits will become a living record of how I’ve changed—physically and artistically. I’ll be watching my face age, yes, but I’ll also be watching the gradual transformation of my style as an artist. Each portrait will represent the techniques I’m experimenting with, the colors I’m drawn to, the influences that are shaping me, and the emotions that are most present in my life at that particular moment.

There’s a certain beauty in the idea of capturing that continuous change, year by year, on the same canvas with the same subject: myself. It’s a reflection of the fact that none of us stay the same. We grow, we evolve, and our stories shift—and so does the art we create.

An Invitation to Reflect

Though the Self Portrait Project is deeply personal, I hope it also resonates with others who are on their own journey of growth and self-discovery. I’m inviting you—my clients, collectors, and supporters—to follow along as I build this collection over the years. Each painting will tell its own story, and together, they’ll form a larger narrative of how both life and art unfold over time.

My hope is that these portraits will encourage you to think about your own evolution. What changes do you notice in yourself when you look back over the years? How has your own expression—whether through art, work, or life—shifted and grown? We often move through life so quickly that we don’t pause to take stock of how far we’ve come, how much we’ve learned, and the ways we’ve been shaped by the experiences we’ve had.

In many ways, this project is about slowing down. It’s about honoring the process of becoming, whether that’s as an artist or simply as a person. It’s about finding beauty in the imperfections and the inevitability of change. Each year’s portrait will capture not just how I look, but who I am in that moment, where I’ve been, and what I’m becoming.

Looking Ahead: The Journey Continues

As I continue this project, I look forward to seeing how the Self Portrait Project will grow and develop with me. In five, ten, or even twenty years, these paintings will form a rich tapestry—a visual history of my life and my craft. I’m excited to share that journey with you, and I hope these portraits inspire you to reflect on your own.

Thank you for following along and supporting me in this evolving project. Stay tuned for each year’s self-portrait, as I explore what it means to grow, age, and create in oil paint.