The notion of ‘traditional’ beauty in contemporary Western culture fascinates me. My artwork tends to bleed a certain aesthetic because of it—rose petals and lace, sugar and slivers of glass, and vibrant hues of bright pink and searing crimson. For a long time, this used to be an aesthetic I tried to avoid—it's all just so achingly ‘feminine’—but the urge to create in such a sickly-sweet manner has never abated. Thoughts of allurement, objectification, desire, and the chaos which inevitably follows such seemingly romantic inclinations plague my mind like ghosts. I've decided to start acknowledging them, allowing these themes to find a place in my art. The haunting is consensual.