I was born and raised in San Diego. I painted and drew all throughout growing up, though never formally trained.

My father was an artist, I learned by watching him. I was four years old when he would draw to keep me quiet in church. We would pass a drawing back and forth, each of us adding something new with every turn. I have been drawing ever since.

My father was a very talented photographer and writer. He was also severely depressed. His demons extinguished much of his creative energy.

My mother was an angel. She gave and sacrificed and cared and hoped.

All of my art is filtered through a childhood of harsh darkness and absolute perfection in equal amounts.

Everything I do carries bits of both realities. It is only recently that I have begun to appreciate it.

Good or bad, real or imagined, I paint what I remember.

Kirsten