This fourth painting in my Self Portrait Project feels very different from the previous three. Looking at it now, I can’t help but notice how much my style—and honestly my life—has shifted since I first started this project back in 2023.
This portrait was originally supposed to be the first painting in my new collection thesis called Body: Habitat. I had planned for it to kick off that series, but when the idea for Saint Surf (2026) came to me, I ended up switching my schedule and painting that one first. By the time I returned to this self-portrait, I had already begun fully stepping into the ideas behind the Body: Habitat work.
Shells ended up becoming the center of this piece.
Over the past year, I’ve been working on a large commission that requires a lot of shells in the mixed media framework surrounding the painting. Somewhere along the way, I became completely obsessed with them. I started studying their shapes, their textures, the way they spiral and grow. They’re delicate but incredibly strong, and every single one feels like its own little sculpture made by the ocean.
That fascination grew even more when I traveled to Costa Rica this past January. I spent time collecting shells along the beach, and something about that process felt oddly grounding. When I started painting this portrait, it just felt natural to surround myself with them.
So this year, I placed myself inside a kind of ornate shell altar.
The composition almost feels devotional. My eyes are closed, my hands are pressed together, and the shells form this protective environment around my body. It wasn’t necessarily meant to be religious-looking, but the symbolism naturally went in that direction as I painted. In a way, the shells became the habitat around the body—something that protects, frames, and shapes the person inside it.
Which actually ties perfectly into the ideas behind Body: Habitat.
I just turned twenty-nine a few weeks ago, so this is the first painting I’ve made at this age. It’s interesting to look at this portrait and feel like I finally captured my face exactly as it looks right now. Out of all the self-portraits I’ve painted so far, this one feels the most accurate. I felt beautiful while I was painting it, and that’s not something I’ve always felt during this project.
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Technically, this painting also took me longer than any of the others. I’m not sure if it was the level of detail in the shells or the fact that painting yourself can sometimes be a frustrating process, but this one required a lot more patience. There were moments where I had to step away from it for a bit before coming back with fresh eyes.
Still, I’m really proud of where it landed.
When I compare this portrait to the others in the series, I notice something interesting. In the earlier paintings, there was always a sense of searching—trying to figure out who I was or where my life was going. This one feels quieter. More grounded. Almost like a pause.
Maybe that’s the result of getting older, or maybe it’s the clarity that comes with a couple years of sobriety. Who knows.
But looking at this painting now, I see someone who feels a little more settled inside her own skin.
As the Self Portrait Project continues, it’s been fascinating to watch these shifts happen year by year. Each painting captures a slightly different version of me—not just physically, but emotionally and creatively.
And if the past few portraits are any indication, I have a feeling the next chapter will probably look very different again.
