From Concrete to Canvas
My Biography. Told in Imagery
Before the canvas, before the color, there was noise — life lived loud, fast, and fractured across places most people only read about. Germany. Iraq. Korea. Afghanistan. Saudi Arabia. Detroit. Years of movement, pressure, structure, and survival with no time to process what any of it meant. Then everything went quiet long enough to hear the truth.
Psilocybin didn’t open my eyes — it reset my frequency. Color started speaking. Texture started remembering. Silence started forming shape. What felt like a trip was really a translation.
I’m not an artist.
I’m a visual biographer.
I document my timeline on canvas. Every piece is a chapter. Every gallery is an autobiography told in imagery. I paint the versions of myself that never got to speak.