Dressed by Poetry is a natural extension of my work as an illustrator — a more tactile, intuitive, and experimental branch of my creative practice. Through this project, I explore how illustration can live beyond the screen or page, inhabiting objects, garments, and textures. It’s where lines meet poetry, materials carry memory, and art takes shape through things that once had another life.
Dressed by Poetry is a natural extension of my work as an illustrator — a more tactile, intuitive, and experimental branch of my creative practice. Through this project, I explore how illustration can live beyond the screen or page, inhabiting objects, garments, and textures. It’s where lines meet poetry, materials carry memory, and art takes shape through things that once had another life.
illustration + poetry + sustainability
Thoughts unsettled,
feet restless,
while outside
the sea rages,
stirring its waters,
as if echoing
the tides that pull me under.
Can I ask for calm
when the soul cries out for water?
Water to drown the haste,
to overflow,
to dissolve.
When my body
meets the water,
the water touches all.
The pores open,
spread wide,
release.
Each pore holds everything—
and still, in the same breath, holds only:
water.
Art to FEEL, art to keep, art to WEAR
What began with drawing has grown into a multidisciplinary practice that blends digital illustration, hand lettering, and reclaimed materials. Inspired by quiet moments, emotional memory, and natural forms, each piece — whether printed, painted, or cast in resin — holds a poetic presence. Sustainability is not just a concept but a foundation: I work almost exclusively with second-hand and repurposed items, giving them a renewed voice through image and text.
illustration + poetry + sustainability
Not all paths are traced in ink,
Some dissolve before you blink.
The waves will pull, the winds will call,
No map can trace them after all.
Some journeys shift, some drift,
some glide,
They can't be drawn - just felt in tide.
Enjoy the ride, trust the flow,
Loose the anchor and let it go.
Where art takes shape
These works take form across different mediums — resin pieces made from found frames, trays, and coasters; garments from op shops carefully painted with original illustrations; and small objects that carry fragments of drawing and verse. Each is made slowly, intentionally, shaped by hand and thought, designed to live with someone, quietly and meaningfully.
illustration + poetry + sustainability
The anchor’s gone, the winds have grown,
The waves are high, you’re all alone.
The storm surrounds, it shakes, it sways,
But hearts like yours don’t lose their way.
You ride the dark,
you face the tide,
No map, no shore,
no place to hide.
And though the sky forgets to shine,
You carry light —
a strength, a line.
And when the storm has had its say,
You’ll find yourself,
a brighter way.
art with purpose
Every stage of the process is guided by a desire to reuse, reimagine, and restore. Items that might otherwise be overlooked or discarded become surfaces for reflection — vessels for colour, line, and story. It’s a way of working that invites pause and care: art made not to be consumed quickly, but to be kept, touched, and returned to.
illustration + poetry + sustainability
The sea let go,
the sky grew wide,
Clouds gathered soft, the winds replied.
No borders drawn,
no weight to hold,
A quiet drift through blue and gold.
Some dreams aren’t made for earth or tide,
They move where
open skies collide.
Loose the anchor,
trust the flow,
Surrender to the
wild unknown.
Quiet things, speaking softly
Each piece created under Dressed by Poetry carries a sense of history — not just from the material it’s made of, but in the feeling it evokes. Whether layered in resin and light or painted softly across fabric, these works offer quietness in a noisy world. They hold space for memory, imperfection, and beauty — the kind we often miss, unless we’re paying attention.
illustration + poetry + sustainability
There are nights when the sea swallows everything.
Even names, voices, and the thin line between sky and water.
The world unravels into salt and tide.
Salt in the air,
salt on my skin,
salt in the wound.
But there — a light.
A quiet promise, soft and certain, cutting through the night.
Not to save, but to remind: there’s always
a way to surface.
A place. A breath. Where dark breaks into light.
