‘Pages of Me’
Pages of Me is the closest thing I’ve ever made to a self-portrait without painting my face. The surface is layered with photocopies of my old journals, tattoo sketches, phrases I once crossed out, small drawings, splashes, and emotional debris from different seasons of my life. Nothing is random — every layer comes from a real page I once lived with.
Painting over those fragments felt like acknowledging that identity isn’t linear; we’re made of every version of ourselves that has existed. The parts we try to hide don’t disappear — they just become texture. The things we outgrow still leave a trace. The past isn’t erased; it’s painted over, softened, blurred, or reinterpreted, but it remains part of the foundation.
For me, this piece holds the same feeling as going through an old notebook at 2 a.m. — confronting who I was, who I thought I would become, and the quiet honesty of the present moment. Pages of Me is about memory, self-dialogue, domestic rituals, and the emotional archive we carry everywhere. It reminds me that identity is layered, imperfect, and beautifully unfinished.