I never set out to become a live painter—it found me. My creative journey has always been deeply personal, but something shifted when I started painting during worship services and vigils. I realized that art wasn’t just something I created; it was something I could surrender to.

Standing before a blank canvas in a sacred space, I let go of expectation and allowed the energy of the room to guide me. The rise and fall of voices, the stillness of a prayer, the warmth of candlelight—each moment shapes the strokes of my brush. This practice, which I call intuitive painting, is about releasing the ego and opening myself to divine creation. It’s not about planning the outcome; it’s about trust. Trusting that what needs to be expressed will come through, that the colors will find their place, that the story will unfold on its own.

In these live settings, painting becomes an act of worship, a reflection of the collective experience. As I paint, the audience watches creativity take form in real time—witnessing not just an artwork, but a moment of transformation. The canvas holds more than color; it holds the energy of the space, the unspoken prayers, the emotions stirring beneath the surface.

Through this journey, I’ve come to see art as a living, breathing thing—something bigger than myself. Each time I step up to the canvas, I step deeper into faith, into connection, into something unknown yet beautifully familiar. It’s a reminder that creation is not ours to control—it’s a gift to receive, a process to trust, and an experience to share.