Dreamweavers Garden

When I began this painting, I didn’t know exactly where it would take me—I only knew I needed to follow the feeling. The image emerged slowly, intuitively, like memory surfacing through layers of water and dream. I used acrylics and oils to build a soft, luminous world: a BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, Women of Color) woman with eyes closed in quiet power, her face serene, her hair transforming into a sacred terrain of forest, ocean, and sky. She is part goddess, part memory, part mirror. Hummingbirds drink from her crown. Whales whisper wise messages. Flowers bloom freely from the air around her. This is not just a portrait—it is a portal.

As I painted, I thought of the women I come from—women who carry the world in their bodies and still find ways to nurture beauty. I thought of my mother, of all BIPOC women who have been forced to be more than human, yet remain divinely rooted in both tenderness and resistance. The hair that rises from her scalp is not just hair—it is earth, sea, and spirit. It is the map of resilience. Her closed eyes are not absence—they are vision. She dreams whole ecosystems into being. The more I layered color, the more I saw her not as an individual but as an origin story, a prayer, and a sanctuary.

This painting became a meditation on wholeness—on how we are never just one thing. We are rooted and fluid, mythical and real, wounded and radiant. I painted her with the hope that others would feel a return to something they may have forgotten: the sacredness of their own bodies, the way the earth still remembers them, the way beauty insists on blooming even underwater. I don’t know if she is underwater, above the clouds, or somewhere out of time—but I know she is alive. I know she is me. I know she is us.

She Dreamed in Salt and Sky

Her hair became the forest,
green with memory and moss,
where hummingbirds stitched color
into the breath between
what once was earth
and what could still be.

She closed her eyes,
not to sleep, but to see
the shape of freedom rising
from the sea fan's arms,
where whales sing
to wounds that almost healed.

A woman shaped from silence
and coral, soft as dusk,
she carries the light
in her spine—
salt-thick, ancient,
and wholly her own.

The ocean remembers
her origin
even when she forgets
the all the chapters of it—
a ripple, a vow,
a psalm.

She is not drowning.
She is listening.
To the language
of roots and current,
to the whales’ message
rising in spirals of sound.

Call her goddess,
call her seed,
call her mother of color and tide—
she walks through water
as if it’s breath,
and leaves a garden where she exists.

Prices are in USD $

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in
46in x 60in

12in x 16in
15in x 20in
19in x 24in
23in x 30in
28in x 36in
32in x 42in
37in x 48in
43in x 55in