I work at the threshold between what can be seen and what can only be felt. My process begins long before paint touches canvas or algorithms begin to render; it starts in the moment of reception, when an image arrives in the mind’s periphery like a half-remembered dream. Sometimes it comes as a flicker of light, sometimes as a field of colour, sometimes as a pulse of emotion with no visible shape at all. I hold these impressions, allowing them to steep in memory and sensation, until they begin to form a language I can work with. From there, the act of making becomes a translation — from spirit to image, from signal to form — moving fluidly between the tactile devotion of painting, the generative potential of AI, and the immersive depth of sound. Each work is created as both an artefact and a threshold: a place the viewer can enter to encounter the same terrain from which it was born — a terrain where creation is inseparable from love, and where every surface hides another world.
As an only child, I spent hours alone, crouched beside rock pools — mesmerised by the shimmer of light on water, the hidden worlds below the surface, the way reflections bent and dissolved. These quiet moments shaped my seeing. The rock pool was not just a body of water — it was a portal, a place where surface gave way to something deeper, where the visible dissolved into the felt. That early vision taught me to trust in what exists beyond the limits of ordinary perception, and to recognise that the world is always layered: matter and light, reality and reflection, body and spirit. Today, I work through digital screens — luminous surfaces that also reflect, distort, and reveal — creating artworks that remain faithful to that first way of seeing.
My process begins with reception. I receive abstract visual messages — not as ideas, but as sudden inner impressions, images that arrive fully formed in shape, colour, and emotional tone. This process is psychic, intuitive, and involuntary. It is a form of ESP: emotional-sensory perception. These visions are translated into words — fragments of spirit writing — which I enter into AI image generators to create digital seed images. These are not finished works, but echoes — visual twins of the unseen message.
I then paint my response to this seed using acrylics and household tools — brushes, spatulas, whisks, mops, and sponges. These are not artistic implements, but domestic instruments of female servitude reactivated as expressive extensions of the body. Through them, I transform invisible psychic transmissions into tangible form. The painting is not a representation — it is an interpretation. A ritual act of bringing the received image into matter.
Once complete, the painting is digitally merged with its original AI seed. This composite is altered in Photoshop through mirroring, colour shifting, and subtle recomposition — a process I call morphogenesis. The result is a morph: a final visual artefact that fuses physical gesture, psychic reception, and machine logic. These morphs are not enhancements — they are hybrid beings, shaped through emotional intuition and digital ritual.
The final phase is the creation of digital mandalas — symmetrical short films constructed from the morphs and layered with targeted sound frequencies designed to promote emotional balance, focus, and perceptual openness. These mandalas are not decorative. They are technologies of psychic induction — created to guide the viewer into the emotional and symbolic space where the original message was received. Each mandala functions as a portal into my ESP world: a soft, immersive interface between spirit, code, and image.
This five-stage process — ESP message → AI seed → Acrylic painting → Digital morph → Mandala film — is not linear. It is ritual. It is a cycle of transmission, translation, and transformation.
The conceptual and theoretical backbone of my practice is drawn from feminist, metaphysical, and posthuman thought. Bracha L. Ettinger’s matrixial theory provides a framework for understanding the painting and morph as sites of co-emergence — spaces where feeling, memory, and subjectivity unfold across thresholds, not binaries. Rosi Braidotti’s posthuman nomadism affirms the multiplicity of my process — moving between psychic transmission, domestic gesture, algorithmic collaboration, and sonic frequency. My work echoes the metaphysical traditions of image-as-receptacle, but translated into a post-digital, affect-driven environment. Technology is not an aesthetic tool in my practice — it is a spiritual medium: a mirror, a carrier, a co-author.
Artistically, I am influenced by figures who treat the act of image-making as sacred and revelatory. Hilma af Klint and Emma Kunz taught me that abstraction can function as symbolic language — as a direct interface with the spiritual. Leonora Carrington and Ithell Colquhoun model the integration of visionary reception and feminist magic. Contemporary inspiration comes from artists like Tai Shani, Suzanne Treister, and Tabita Rezaire, whose works move across text, ritual, and tech to reveal symbolic systems shaped by myth, gender, and information. I also draw from outsider and esoteric art traditions that treat the unseen as structurally real.
I work within the living curatorial framework of Alter Aphroditism — a mythic–spiritual philosophy developed within the Venus Creo gallery. It views the feminine not as aesthetic, but as encoded force. In this framework, art is understood as invocation: not something merely made, but something called down. Through this lens, my morphs are not images of the goddess — they move with her logic: nonlinear, layered, symbolic, and transformative. Each work therefore is a vessel. A psychic artefact. A symbolic invitation. Not to see what I see — but to feel what was felt, and enter the space where image becomes presence.