In 2012, the life I was building came to a sudden halt. The diagnosis was Multiple Sclerosis. My body stopped listening to me. The future I had planned evaporated.

I didn’t go to the Peruvian Amazon to “find myself.” I wasn’t looking for an awakening. I went because I was out of options. I went to survive.

Living with the Shipibo tribe surpassed my wildest expectations; it was a complete deconstruction. I didn’t just learn about healing; I had to physically endure it. I had to let go of the version of me that thought he was in control, and learn to listen to the intelligence of a body that was screaming for change.

It wasn’t a miracle. It was work. And it was unravelling that changed everything.

I wrote The Autoimmune Awakening to map the logic of that return—to give others the tools I wish I had.

But my paintings are the records of the downloads. 

Where the book explains the mechanics, the art captures the mess. The color. The chaos of tearing down a life and building a new one from the ground up.

I use hidden layers, geometry, and augmented reality not to be technical, but because healing has dimensions that paint alone can’t touch.

My intention for my work is that it works as a mirror. My hope is that when you stand in front of it, the story of who you should be goes quiet for a moment. And you can just be with who you are.