Artwork

Beneath the Bloom emerged from my experience of losing my son to violence and learning to live with the grief that followed. The woman beneath the flowers carries my sorrow, the questions that remain, and a resilience I did not yet recognize. Her closed eyes and exposed heart reveal the weight of betrayal, heartbreak, and absence. Although surrounded by vibrant flowers, she appears nearly consumed by them, reflecting the moments when loss felt overwhelming. Still, her heart continues to beat. This work bears witness to the lasting wounds violence leaves behind while honoring the quiet strength required to face them. It affirms that beauty and pain can occupy the same space, and that truly seeing another person’s grief is an act of compassion.

Becoming the Bloom grew from the slow, painful transformation that began as I learned to accept the reality of losing my son to violence. In the woman, I see the part of myself that learned to live again, not because the loss became smaller, but because I learned to carry it differently. The flowers no longer press inward; they have become part of her as love, patience, understanding, and grace take root in the soil of suffering. Acceptance does not mean believing that his death was acceptable, forgetting him, or excusing the violence that took him. It means facing what cannot be changed while choosing not to surrender my life to bitterness. This work honors forgiveness, self-worth, and my openness to God’s healing presence. Through it, I stand with others whose lives have been changed by violence and affirm that even after profound loss, hope, dignity, and beauty can still bloom.

Rage captures the moment emotion can no longer be contained, expressed through intense reds, deep shadows, and forceful black marks that push and collide across the canvas. It reflects how grief and pain can become anger, acknowledging that emotion as an honest part of healing and survival. For me, this painting became a place to give those feelings a voice, allowing what I had carried quietly to be seen, felt, and eventually released.

Searching explores the space between feeling lost and finding your way. Gold moves through soft gray washes, interrupted by blue and black, suggesting uncertain paths and unexpected glimpses of hope. For me, it reflects how grief can leave us between who we were and who we are becoming. Painting became a place for feelings I could not fully explain. This piece honors the courage to keep moving through the unknown, trusting that finding our way can begin with simply continuing to search.

Heavy black strokes move through soft gray washes, reflecting the anger, fragility, and uncertainty of grief. Obscured forms suggest a world that feels familiar yet profoundly changed, giving pain a place to exist. For me, painting became a way to release what I could no longer carry, while writing gave those emotions a voice. Through motherhood, life, and unimaginable loss, my childhood dream of becoming an artist remained. The young girl who once dreamed of creating was still there, with a deeper story to tell.

Tenderness explores the quiet vulnerability of allowing ourselves to feel deeply. Soft pink washes and muted grays surround a bold red mark that, to me, resembles an exposed emotional wound. The gentleness around it reflects our ability to remain open, loving, and compassionate even after being hurt. This painting honors the courage it takes to feel pain without letting it harden who we are, reminding us that there is strength in staying soft.

After explores what remains when emotional intensity has passed. Sweeping forms in purple, mauve, and muted darkness carry the traces of difficult experiences, their movement settling into something quieter and softer. To me, this painting reflects how healing changes us as we carry memories, scars, and lessons forward. Within that space, reflection makes room for renewal, reminding us that what we have survived can take a new shape and still hold beauty.

I created La Maria Magdalena when someone I considered a friend revealed intentions that brought hurt and disappointment. I let their actions speak, trusting God to guide me through. The woman’s exposed back reflects vulnerability, while the rocks before her suggest an uncertain path. Her stillness represents the strength I found in faith when I could not see what lay ahead. This painting reminds me that life holds lessons we must face, and that sometimes we need to be still, listen, and trust God to carry us through

Sigo Siendo Boricua expresses the love I carry for Puerto Rico, even when life takes me far from its shores. Born on the island and raised in the United States, I have lived between Florida and California, yet Puerto Rico remains home. This painting holds the grief of separation alongside a love that distance cannot diminish. My culture lives in my memories, my heart, and my art. Though I miss my island and my people, my roots remain part of who I am. Sigo siendo Boricua. Siempre.

The Strength She Carries honors the quiet resilience and vulnerability of a woman holding more than the world can see. Her turned back and raised arms suggest a moment to pause, gather herself, and breathe. Warm skin tones contrast with a restless background, while gold in her hair reflects dignity and an enduring inner light. For me, this painting recognizes the private grief, love, and hope women carry. It honors their strength while making room for tenderness, exhaustion, and the need to be supported and cared for.

Fight Back, also known as Ezekiel, was born from betrayal and a prayer whispered when I felt I had nothing left. As I worshiped, I placed a blank canvas before me and painted without knowing where the brush would lead. From that surrender grew Faithful Animal Friends, stories inviting families to gather and grow in faith. Named for the valley of dry bones, this painting bears witness to God breathing life into the places I thought were beyond hope, turning my pain toward purpose..