Garden of Eden

My newest painting is titled Eden, after the biblical paradise described in the Book of Genesis. The Garden of Eden is portrayed as a beautiful, idyllic place representing humanity’s original state of innocence and perfect communion with the divine. According to the story, Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, and in that moment, they became aware of their nakedness and imperfections.

The Garden of Eden signifies more than just a physical space—it represents the loss of innocence, the emergence of self-awareness, guilt, and moral conflict. That sudden shift from blissful ignorance to the stark realization of vulnerability and shame is a powerful metaphor, one that has deeply influenced much of my recent artwork.

Everyone, I think, has a moment when they become aware of their own imperfections. I remember the exact bathing suit I was wearing the day I noticed my stomach stuck out farther than the girl sitting across from me at the pool. In that instant, I looked down and realized I should be sucking it in. Just like that, I had bitten the fruit.

Back at school, I looked around and saw—maybe for the first time—that I was a foot taller than everyone in the room, including the boys. That moment marked the beginning of a steady, looming, and ever-present awareness—my own personal fall from grace. My Garden of Eden, once full of childlike wonder and unfiltered joy, had shifted. Life would never feel quite the same.

This painting, though, is a symbol of hope. It's a radical act: to paint stretch marks and curves and hang them up for the world to see. It’s a dare—to not look away. A dare to be proud of the wild, blooming flowers in your own Garden of Eden. To protect them. To water them. To tend to them like your life depends on it.