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What began as sketches on paper and conversations over fabric rolls became something bigger — our first published editor...
01/11/2025

What began as sketches on paper and conversations over fabric rolls became something bigger — our first published editorial under Asis Studios.
This project with my mom isn’t just about clothes; it’s about legacy, softness, and the art of remembering where we come from.

Now published on

This piece emerges from a place of quiet authority. After my accident and time in hospital gowns—symbols of vulnerabilit...
09/07/2025

This piece emerges from a place of quiet authority. After my accident and time in hospital gowns—symbols of vulnerability—I wanted something that wasn’t given to me, but claimed by me.

This gown isn’t about desire for another. It’s about choosing my body, my story, and my presence. I sculpted a lavender slip dress with resin-dipped organza. The sheer mesh acts as armor: translucent but unyielding. Red ribbon knots punctuate the fabric, each a deliberate bead of confidence, boundary, and self-possession.

In crafting her form—warm brown skin, honest posture—I wanted her to embody a woman who isn’t asking for acknowledgment, she’s demanding it. Painting her felt like breathing life into a vow: I own my shape. I define my skin. I choose my visibility.

No longer hidden under sterile blues, she stands (well—sits) in her own terms. This gown isn’t soft for survival—it’s strong for emergence.

In my thought process, this painting is the bridge between two selves: the one who lay exposed and helpless in a hospital gown, and the one who is taking up space, choosing what she wears, what she reveals, and how she loves her rescued body again.

Thank you for witnessing my next chapter.

The Gown I chose, 2025
84.1 x 118.9 cm
Mixed Medium (Acrylic, organza and resin on canvas)

Working with tulle lately.There’s something about its softness, its sheerness—how it holds shape but still feels like ai...
27/06/2025

Working with tulle lately.
There’s something about its softness, its sheerness—how it holds shape but still feels like air.
It reminds me of the kind of femininity I’ve been thinking about…
gentle, layered, a little transparent.

A little throwback to when I was still working on this painting… I actually did finish it — I just never got the chance ...
25/06/2025

A little throwback to when I was still working on this painting… I actually did finish it — I just never got the chance to take a proper photo of the final piece.

Why? Because at the time, I was so broke I couldn’t pay rent, and my landlord took this painting as payment. A modern-day barter system if you will.

When I finally asked for it back, he told me he sold it because he “wasn’t sure I’d ever pay.” 😭

So now, the finished version of this painting lives somewhere out there… probably hanging above someone’s couch or collecting dust in a storage unit. I’ll never know. But at least it paid the bills.

Here’s to art that saves us in more ways than one.

I’m gathering the colours that will shape the next painting in the series. These colors hold the emotional temperature o...
23/06/2025

I’m gathering the colours that will shape the next painting in the series. These colors hold the emotional temperature of the series I’m working on. The soft baby pinks and lilacs speak to tenderness — but not innocence. They reference recovery, vulnerability, and the blurred edges between pain and sensuality.

The baby pinks are reminiscent of hospital gowns and girlhood blush, folding memory and femininity into the background. The lilacs and lavenders are a continuation of that sterile, surreal hospital blue from the earlier painting — but warmer now, more human, more dream.

I’m gathering the colours that will shape the next painting in the series. These colors hold the emotional temperature o...
21/06/2025

I’m gathering the colours that will shape the next painting in the series. These colors hold the emotional temperature of the series I’m working on. The soft baby pinks and lilacs speak to tenderness — but not innocence. They reference recovery, vulnerability, and the blurred edges between pain and sensuality.

The baby pinks are reminiscent of hospital gowns and girlhood blush, folding memory and femininity into the background. The lilacs and lavenders are a continuation of that sterile, surreal hospital blue from the earlier painting — but warmer now, more human, more dream.

for a moment, this container felt like a dream — a quiet space to think, paint, and benow it holds something else entire...
13/06/2025

for a moment, this container felt like a dream — a quiet space to think, paint, and be
now it holds something else entirely.
i can’t use it the way i imagined, but i’m still grateful it found its place in this story.
sometimes the room we need isn’t four walls — it’s just a moment of possibility.

There was something uncomfortable about sitting with this memory long enough to paint it.I wasn’t trying to replicate wh...
08/06/2025

There was something uncomfortable about sitting with this memory long enough to paint it.
I wasn’t trying to replicate what happened to me
I was trying to feel it again, just enough to make it visual.
Faceless, because identity felt distant then. My body had changed, my sense of self had blurred.
I kept her white, like a ghost of myself, outlined in red like stitches, old flame or the color of trauma but also survival.
This painting wasn’t about being seen. It was about being honest. About making sense of something too raw to name out loud.
I didn’t know if I was healing or reopening the wound, maybe both.
But I wanted the composition to hold space for what words couldn’t.
A body, barely there, in a bed that remembers.

Swallowed whole,2025
Acrylic, mixed media on canvas
84.1 x 118.9 cm

No studio yet, just the floor—my altar. Lace, resin, sequins, and breath. Every piece I make is a kind of ritual. A spel...
06/06/2025

No studio yet, just the floor—my altar. Lace, resin, sequins, and breath. Every piece I make is a kind of ritual. A spell for healing, a prayer in pigment

This was four days after everything changed. I was silent, stitched, bandaged, and swollen. But I was also alive—and tha...
30/05/2025

This was four days after everything changed. I was silent, stitched, bandaged, and swollen. But I was also alive—and that meant something, even if I didn’t know what yet.

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