My art doesn’t concern itself with self-discovery. I already know who I am. Rather, my art invites people to see the things which have really affected me, and so it is a sharing act.

I grew up in London, United Kingdom, speaking Spanish and biting my nails. When I was 9, I fell into a coma and was not meant to come out of it. Septicemia and meningitis. I am meant to be a quadruple amputee. It is only in this version of the universe that I am able-bodied.

My father is an Arizonan and the first real motif of my life was a Sheriff badge he stole as a kid living in Wickenburg. He took me on my first road trip, and my mother is the best human I know. The most important lesson she has taught me is to not strive for happiness. Instead, strive for purposefulness, and you’ll find the happiness comes with it.

I have a tattoo, on my left arm right above my elbow that reads Moxie. This is my mother’s chosen name for me. I am afraid of spiders, heights, and stereotypes.

My dad, a synesthetic, says that my aura is blue. When I was a child, I wanted to be (in this order) a builder, author, painter, ranch-hand, then author again. I miss London every day, but avoid returning, preferring to yearn for it instead. My family is big and I am all the better for it.