My portraits begin in stillness, in that quiet moment where someone lets their guard down even just for a breath. That's what I wait for. That's what I draw.
Working with charcoal, I lean into the medium's unpredictability. I let the lines be loose, raw, imperfect, smudging, erasing, redrawing — until something honest starts to emerge. I'm not chasing realism. I'm searching for the essence of the person.
Egon Schiele's work opened a door for me — a reminder that distortion can be more truthful than accuracy. Like him, I'm drawn to elongated forms, angular lines, and the emotional weight in a face. His influence taught me that the human face doesn't have to be flawless to be powerful. It just has to be real.
I graduated with a BFA in 2004 and have worked as an art therapist and painting instructor, using acrylic, pastels, and watercolour before charcoal became my language. I have also facilitated expressive painting workshops and taught yoga in recovery houses, working with people rebuilding their lives after addiction. Long before I learned to draw a face, I learned to read one — the tension held in a jaw, the flicker of avoidance in someone's eyes, the release when a person finally exhales. That work shaped how I see people still. Helping participants create deeply personal paintings gave them a way to begin their healing journey and move back into the world with a fresh outlook on life. I donate 20% of my art proceeds to homeless charities — not just to help provide necessities, but as an opportunity to restore hope, dignity, and a sense of belonging to those who need it most.
I spent my early childhood in Calcutta, India, where I was fascinated by Buddha statues in market squares and temples. I was deeply moved by the intense light and calm presence in their eyes and began drawing their faces. Later, I turned to the faces of local people, drawn to the raw emotion in their expressions.
Later on, growing up in Europe, I was attracted to German Expressionism, particularly Egon Schiele, whose work expresses the deep inner world of the sitter.
These portraits are not about likeness. They're about presence. Not about beauty, but being. Unfiltered. Uncomfortable. Unapologetically human.
