Our thesis show is around the corner!!
SVA Chelsea Gallery, NY
Reception: May 11th, 5-8pm
Come to the reception if you can! It’ll be fun to celebrate 🎉 These pics are just sneak peeks 🤭 I’m really proud of my work.
You can see the show anytime while its open:
May 10-22, 2026
It’s a group show with about 40 artists in the SVA MFA Illustration cohort, so plenty of art to see! There’s a huge range from animation, fashion design, picture books, gaming… I could go on
My piece is in this group show, Comics in the City, and today was the opening! I'm grateful to be part of this exhibition, along with my friends Siyang @unfinished.drawingpad and Caitlin @phantalism and so many other talents!
Show runs until Oct 20th ❤️
A Haibun (a prose poem followed by a haiku) about the hiking trail I loved to remember my mom during, and my dog Coco used to hike it with me. And I miss them both now ❤️ This is s two-page book spread, hence the spacing in the middle of the spine’s gutter.
The text of the poem reads:
It used to be my daily meditation. Walking in those woods. I was back living at home: healing, searching, getting clean. My dog forced me to lace my boots every morning, sniffing. That actually isn’t fair to say, it’s one reason I wanted her in the first place. Losing you was so hard. I needed something soft.
I was lost for a while. Not in the woods. My soul was lost and inspiration was scattered. The woods helped me gather the pieces. I didn’t know what to do, when you left us that October night. You wanted me to go back to school, and mom, I tried. I got that education, my blackouts stealing a lot of memories. Now I was making new ones, on the trail, ones where I venture off alone, trusting myself finally.
One winter daybreak, snowshoes on, fresh powder welcomed us. We were holding steady pace, when I thought my dog picked the wrong path. But no, the white blanket revealing the half hidden fork leading up the ridge. Finding a stacked cairn at the top of the hill, I felt your presence with me, sniffling. I added a stray to the pile, making it reach farther skyward. And found I could see the far-off mountain range through the bare trees. Spring brought with it a quilt of soft, green moss. A sunken hand print would slowly puff back. Comfort. A lap to curl upon the couch. A reminder to stop, take a deep breath. Not stale exhaust. Fresh grass, crisp leaves, dirt. I fill my lungs. And come back for more. Countless days we traversed that trail, a new day, a new cairn.
In the big city
Dreaming of the layered earth
And I miss you both
