You might’ve seen the phrase below my name:
Making the invisible visible.
Making the invisible visible.
That’s the thread running through everything I create — whether it’s a painting, a sculpture, or a children’s book. I’m drawn to the things we can’t quite touch: invisible illnesses, internal landscapes, the quiet impact of nature, and the existential “what-ifs” we try not to think about but always do.
I’m Maya, an 18-year-old artist. While I am more than my diagnosis, living with Crohn’s disease has shaped how I see the world. I was diagnosed at four, and spent much of my childhood in hospitals or at home recovering. Art became my safe space. At first, it was an escape when I felt isolated or scared; now it’s how I process, explore, and make sense of things that don’t always show on the surface.
Living with Crohn’s has taught me what it means to live in a body that sometimes betrays you — and how to find beauty in that. The disconnect between what is visible and what is truly felt often appears in my work. Not because I want illness to define me, but because it taught me to look more closely at the world and admire what’s easy to overlook.
For me, art is about connection. If my work reflects even a small part of your own experience back to you, then it’s done its job.
Whether I'm riding the motorcycle, smiling as hard as I can, or lying in a hospital bed (maybe smiling a little less), I try to share it all. As an artist, I am entirely shaped by both the good days and the hard ones.