"The Foundation Lied" Artwork

Every artwork I make is a singular original—no prints, no replicas, no second chances. My art lives in the tension between breakdown and rebirth. I began creating simply as a way to breathe again — watercolor was my quiet space, a therapeutic pause where I could decompress and let the noise settle. Over time, that small act of stillness became the place where I processed what I couldn’t always speak: anger, confusion, grief, elation, the emotions that arrive uninvited and refuse to leave. Creating became not just an outlet, but a lifeline. I’m drawn to objects that have endured what I’ve felt — rusted hardware, fractured metal, wood worn thin by weather and weight. These remnants carry a truth polished surfaces can’t: the story of what’s survived, surrendered, and transformed. Corrosion Theory is my way of honoring that story. It’s about the beauty found inside erosion, the honesty revealed when something finally breaks open, and the sacredness of what remains. Each piece is built through a rhythm of layering and letting go. Acrylics, inks, patina, glass, and industrial fragments merge into surfaces that feel unearthed, ancient, and deeply alive. My process is part engineering, part confession, part surrender. I pray through every stage, asking God to guide my hands, reveal the next step, and breathe meaning into the materials time has forgotten. In the end, my work is a form of reclamation — of objects, of emotion, of truth. A reminder that ruin and renewal can coexist, that God can carve depth through tension, and that even what feels broken beyond repair can become something luminous when surrendered into His hands.