I used to proclaim that small communities and self-reflection would lead us forward. I still believe that, but I’ve since shed much of my optimism, instead seeking moments of connection in lieu of lasting change. When I was young, I nearly stepped into the Grand Canyon because I wanted to see what lay beyond the edge. As an adult living with autism, I continue to push the boundaries of my environment, always exploring new ways to challenge perception and form.

Through a hybrid of graphic memoir and poetry, I strive to materialize my ideas, capturing them through line, texture, and contrast as if to anchor moments in time. My work often integrates pen, ink, and charcoal, balancing positive and negative space with intricate compositions that engage the viewer’s eye. I complement these elements with found objects and textiles, fragments of memory that introduce texture and form, inviting the interplay of past and present in my visual storytelling. My background as a filmmaker influences my use of perspective, rhythm, and the visual narrative that comics afford me. I delight at the possibilities of juxtaposing text and images to evoke deeper layers of meaning.

At the heart of my style is a rawness tinged with nostalgia. As an uninvited settler in the places I wander to, I am inclined to find ways of unearthing my past, sharing the notion that my stories aren’t outliers of human experience. Along the way, I play with balance and emphasis, using humour to highlight the absurdity in our normal lives while also mapping out new directions for myself. In a way, my work is a continuous series of self-portraits—exposing what has been and confronting what still yearns to emerge.