My story 

If I was given one pound for every time I was told to sell my art than I would have been a millionaire by now. From friends to strangers who gotten to know about my passion for painting would never fail to suggest to me their unique idea of selling my painting, to which I would shyly smile thank them for the compliment and reply "I know'.

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It wasn't until the end of last year that it made me gain the confidence to aspire more to share my love for the art and allow it to tell stories written by another writer. 

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The reason to hide my art and my passion for this craft were because of the meaning it had for me. They weren't painting to be hung on walls but my words of self-expression. What looked like a beautiful painting actually was a long essay of emotional expression on the canvas, They were my private diary. My love letters to myself. 

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As I've grown to the grounded and confident women today. Those diaries still don't fail to bring back the emotions I felt while I created them. So, I felt it was finally time to give others the same diary I've been using for years. My art. Your Touch.