For as long as I can remember, tattooing has held a kind of magic for me.

I was that kid always asking for temporary tattoos at every market stall or event, covering myself in drawings and scribbles, constantly drawing on every piece of paper in front of me and imagining what it could look like on skin. The moment I understood what tattoos were (art that lived and breathed on skin) I was hooked.

At fourteen, I gave myself my first tattoo: a wobbly little stick-and-poke on my ankle. It was far from perfect, but I loved it! I loved that it gave me a sense of autonomy and it made me feel like my dreams could become reality. By seventeen, I had my own machine and a lineup of oranges, fake skin, friends and myself ready to be willing practice canvas. I began studying videos, experimenting with technique and asking any tattoo artist I knew to teach me their own skills. As soon as I turned eighteen, I was getting tattooed just to watch the artists work and pick their minds for anything new to learn about the craft.

My path hasn’t been the “traditional” one. I didn’t do a formal apprenticeship. I learned from everywhere, from anyone willing to share a piece of knowledge, from my mistakes, from my obsession. And I wouldn’t change that for anything. Being self-taught gave me freedom and the space to explore, to fail, to evolve, to build my own style without walls around it.

Even though technology makes tattoo design so much smoother, I’ll always be in love with the mess and texture of a pencil on paper. My process always starts there; a loose, chaotic sketch that slowly becomes something more deliberate. I trace and refine with fineliner, leaving behind any raw lines and ‘imperfections’ that give my work its energy, its uniqueness. I often scan my hand-drawn designs and play with them digitally to refine their flow before they become tattoos, but that tactile beginning always stays at the heart of it.

My style lives somewhere in the space between abstract, organic, and a little bit “unfinished.” I want my designs to move with the body, to feel like they “belong” there, rather than sit on top of it.

I have a deep love for dotwork and how meditative it is to practice. Some of my favourite pieces take days of quiet dotting, building form and depth one point at a time.

I’m most drawn to ornamental inspired artworks, but I like to twist it, pull it apart, make it mine. It’s that same balance between structure and freedom where my joy lives.

Now that I work out of a professional studio I feel my craft growing further - the shared space has pushed me, inspired me, and helped me grow into the artist I’ve always wanted to be. I’ve found my rhythm, my style, my process, and my voice in the tattoo world. I finally feel like I’m creating work that reflects who I am.