No plan, no measurements, no tripod; just the split-second moment and what I do with it next has the exact method. I’ve captured 10,000 faces in my lens, but only a few of those have escaped onto paper. Some hang on the walls of galleries, while others I glued to the sides of dumpsters in East Hastings. My work has an ever-changing finish.

From posh hotel windows in Beverly Hills, to poverty-stricken streets in Haiti, there isn’t a point of view I haven’t shot from. Art is an expression of what the artist has experienced, and mine has led me to many different mediums.

The Mosaic portraits opened the door to a new creative avenue for me to explore. Each one so unique they needed their own stories. Written from a collage of personal experience and fiction, this medium quickly became my favourite. On the days I tuck my pencil behind my ear, I call myself a writer. With a few poetry books with my name on my bedside table, I try to coax myself to believe it. Writing allows me to mimic my inner turmoil, giving them space to stretch their restless legs. It lets me love without nuptials and breathe underwater without gills.

My portraits are what started my stroll down artistry lane. Sharing people’s stories and photographs has taken me everywhere I ever needed to be…and a few I wish I’d never been to. When you discover art within suffering, you cannot simply walk away without capturing some of your own. It was never an attempt to capitalize or exploit, I just walk down alleys my feet feel comfortable in. Seeing myself in shoes of others is where these portraits came from.