About Me

Hi, I’m Alana — and here’s my story.

I’ve been creating for as long as I can remember. At five years old, I joined an art program at school and painted a fish on the back of a denim jacket. I didn’t think much of it, but that jacket ended up displayed in the Gap store window on Michigan Avenue. I remember taking a special trip downtown Chicago to see it. My mom proudly told the sales associate, “That’s her jacket in the window.” But at five, I couldn’t fully grasp the significance. To me, it was just play — painting, creating, expressing.

Looking back, that moment says a lot about how society often views art: as a “so what, big deal” kind of thing. Even as a child, I sensed that undercurrent of underappreciation — and internalized it. Life took over. I wasn’t born into wealth, so I worked early, hustled, went to college, and found my way to psychology.

Psychology lit something in me. I came alive in my personality theory course, where I invented “Mars Madness,” a personality theory based on my friend’s love life. Writing that paper was a joy — a creative act grounded in science. I didn’t realize it then, but psychology became the space where my art and intellect met. Therapy, to me, is both art and science. Techniques are researched, but how I use them — my tone, timing, intuition, presence — that’s art. Psychology found me because, even when I wasn’t painting, I was always an artist.

My next brush with visual art came 20 years after the fish. I designed my tattoo inspired by Kandinsky — a nod to my love of structure and abstraction. People often admired it, but only one recognized the influence, which meant everything to me. Still, art didn’t have a place to breathe. I was busy surviving, becoming a professional, stabilizing my life.

Then, in 2023, everything shifted. After separating from my now ex-husband (an artist in his own way), I naturally gravitated back to art. I bought supplies, started creating again, and lost myself in the process. It felt incredible — like coming home to myself. Over time, I experimented with different mediums and eventually found myself drawn deeply to writing. My artistic voice was expanding.

One day, a client asked me, “Are you an artist?” The question stopped me in my tracks. I had never claimed that identity out loud, despite all I had created — paintings, books, ideas. But in that moment, I answered honestly: “Yeah… I guess I am.” And from that day forward, I gave myself permission to own it.

I create art for people who love beauty, who may not consider themselves “art people,” but feel something when they see a piece that speaks to them. For years, I thought art had to be difficult to matter. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Art is in the eye of the beholder. Basquiat taught me that — his work’s rawness, childlike energy, and refusal to conform gave me permission to create my way.

My style is all about balance — between structure and play, discipline and pleasure. The lines represent structure, grounding, discipline — like going to the gym or eating well. The colors and shapes represent freedom, joy, and spontaneity — like having cake or cocktails just because. Psychologically, it’s the dance between the Id, Ego, and Superego: the Id is the wild color, the Superego is the rule-bound line, and the Ego is the finished piece — the marriage between the two.

Some pieces are messy; some restrained. Sometimes I want to keep going, but the piece tells me to stop. It’s a conversation between intuition and form, between what’s inside me and what emerges on the page. My process is daily. It’s how I listen, connect, and express.

That’s my art. That’s my life.

To learn about my work as a psychologist, visit my website here.