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.
I often gravitate to surrealism. It lets me bridge the strange worlds in my mind with the beauty I observe in nature. Whether I’m working in oil, acrylic, clay, wood, or video, creating is how I search for meaning and connection. 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.
I hope my work helps you feel seen. Thanks for being here.
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.