growing pains 2025
Mixed media: cheesecloth, plywood, cotton twine
59 cm x 84 cm
The quiet fear, vulnerability, and emotional turbulence that accompany the transition into adulthood — It reflects the slow unraveling of childhood illusions—a shedding mirrored in the work’s layered construction. Each layer, created at a different moment in time, holds a fragment of feeling, an echo of thought—capturing the way we develop different parts of ourselves over time. These layers preserve the moment of their creation, not only through the order in which they’re applied but also through the distinct stories told by their textures. My process mirrors this emotional evolution—how each delicate layer carries a narrative of its own. I work methodically, pausing after each application to let the piece evolve and respond to its shifting needs. With every material, a new emotional note emerges—nostalgia, anxiety, resilience—transforming raw reflection into tangible form. The process is both intuitive and deliberate, much like growing up itself. Though marked by grief, loss, and uncertainty, Growing Pain(s) is ultimately a story of becoming. These are the bruises of growth—the visible imprints of transformation—as we move toward a more complex, self-aware existence.
"too young" 2021
Pen and watercolor on cardstock
40 x 29 cm
This piece reflects on the quiet, often overlooked act of waiting—a rhythm deeply woven into childhood. Waiting for Mum. Waiting for Dad to come home. Waiting for instructions. But most of all, waiting to be "grown" enough to be taken seriously. As a deeply emotional child, I felt things intensely—love, sadness, joy—but was often met with responses that dismissed those feelings as invalid. “You don’t know what love is,” they’d say. “You’re too young to understand.” Yet emotions don’t wait for age. They arrive fully formed, even in the smallest bodies. Through this work, I explore the emotional stillness of being young and unheard. My figure waits—silently, endlessly—for the door to open, for her feelings to be seen as real. It’s a reflection on how we gatekeep complexity from children, and a reminder that every feeling—regardless of age—deserves the dignity of being acknowledged.
Mapait ng Katotohanan, The Bitter Reality 2020
Pen and marker on cardstock
32.6 x 25.7 cm
As someone who grew up in the Philippines—specifically Manila—I’ve long been aware of the stark division between the wealthy and the poor. Coming from a privileged background, I have always found it deeply unsettling how teens my age, just a few streets away, are forced to grow up too soon—working to support their families, sacrificing the carefree experiences many of us take for granted. This disparity doesn’t just affect income or access—it shapes entire childhoods.
In Mapait na Katotohanan, I explore how wealth in Manila defines not only lifestyle, but youth culture itself. What it means to "be young" is dramatically different depending on one's social class. For some, youth is filled with spontaneity, leisure, and freedom—casually going out with friends, indulging in food, fashion, hobbies. For others, it’s a time of survival, responsibility, and invisible labor. This work aims to make visible those contrasts that are often overlooked, even by those living within them.
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In the butter-scented town of Bumblebrook, young Clare delivers pastries from her mother’s bakery, Butter and Bliss. Nearby, Benji—a bear with a love for all things buttery and an ambition to run a bakery—plots to kidnap Clare and take over. But during a failed ambush, hunger overcomes Benji, who devours her cinnabon instead. Startled yet intrigued, Clare offers him another treat and a kind smile. Touched, Benji abandons his scheme. The two form an unexpected bond over Danish tarts. Eventually, Clare’s mum sees promise in the polite bear, and Butter and Bliss becomes Butter and Bear—Bumblebrook’s sweetest duo.
Animation development for butter n bear
BAKERY EXT.
BENJI'S HILL EXT.
BURNT. OUT. 2022
Exploring the quiet, pervasive struggle of exhaustion—particularly the kind that creeps into the lives of teenagers today—Many young people today are driven, ambitious, and stretched thin—often to the point where their passion begins to flicker. The figure in my work reflects a slow dimming; someone who has lost not innocence, but the inner spark that once kept them burning.
The Figure You Say You Sit With 2020
​stop motion
I remember being with peers, hearing them laugh and toss around words like “I’m so depressed” or “I wanna die” as if they were just quirky punchlines. At first, I stayed quiet. But inside, I felt this weight—because I live with depression. Not the aesthetic version, not the moody Pinterest kind, but the real, silent weighted figure that lingers when everyone else has gone home.
This piece comes from that ache. From watching something painful be turned into something poetic, even enviable.
fragments of faces, gently suspended in stillness — fleeting moments, quietly honest!!
there’s something about the stillness of a photo
