I have always been intrigued with the relationship between grace and pain. Why would I want to do anything painful to myself? I like showing a graceful and beautiful exterior, but on the inside hiding the pain of what I had to go through to obtain perfection. This comes from twirling the baton for ten years of my life. Twirling the baton incorporated ballet, which I was never able to pursue on a path of its own because I did not have the proper body proportions. I think ballet is the ultimate form of pushing the body beyond its limits, which is achieved through constant practice. Once I stopped twirling the baton, I realized how much I missed the dedication and self-discipline that was involved in practicing.

In the studio dancers have to endure long strenuous hours of practice, which might have them reach their mental and physical limits, even their breaking points.  I have sat in on ballet practices, watched ballet documentaries and from my own personal experience the dancers still show a sense of grace under tremendous amounts of pain.

It’s my intent to represent moments of dancers during practice, but in a more mysterious and vague way. I did not want to create just a ballet dancer in a studio practicing at the ballet bar. My paintings purely focus on the dancers and their own personal moments, which is why their environments are bare. The empty spaces are made up of pastels monotones and greys, bold and smooth brush marks to enhance a somber, yet elegant mood.  

The resulting pieces bring out the moods and emotions of the pain and the grace, in which a dancer has to endure all together in order to perfect their craft. My ballet series fills a void that I have had inside me for a long time because of the ballet I was not able to fully pursue. I now have closure, which is a peaceful thing to behold.