Bright colours blur into a dreamlike scene where softened faces stir memory and mystery. Based on a photo of my grandfather with his children—including my mother—this painting captures the interplay between memory and imagination. Enlarged through magical realism, it evokes the emotional truth of a fleeting moment. Though clarity fades, its emotional weight remains. This work explores how family photographs, even when blurred, can still carry deep resonance across generations.

A child peers into a 1960s barber shop in Alexandria, Egypt—though she was never there. This oil painting explores Armenian diaspora identity, intergenerational trauma, and nostalgia. Inspired by a photo of my grandfather’s shop, I inserted myself into the scene. The colours are surreal, blurring memory and invention. The painting preserves fading histories, transforming grief into resilience. It invites viewers to consider how imagined memories can connect us to what we’ve lost but never known.

Fertility is not gentle—it is violent, raw, and blood-soaked. Anahid is the first in a series reimagining Armenian goddesses from pre-Christian mythology. This painting explores the tension between sacred creation and bodily destruction. The goddess holds a melting sun; her hair nourishes the sacred lands of Ararat. A bursting pomegranate symbolizes both creation and mortality. Through myth, memory, and symbolism, the painting questions femininity, power, and what it means to birth life from violence.

This painting is based on an old photo of my mother and her brother as children. Likely taken by one of their parents, the photo is bright and blurry, like a memory. In painting it, I wanted to understand who my mother was before I knew her. As her child, my view of her is shaped by that role. But through this image, I glimpse another side—joyful, playful, whole. This work is part of a two-piece series that explores how family photos can reveal pieces of a person that are usually hidden from the next generation.

Inspired by Remnants by Elyse Semerdjian, this painting reimagines sacred art from a feminist lens. Like biblical paintings found in churches, it adopts classical composition and reverent tone—but reframes the sacred through gendered memory and trauma. Instead of saints and miracles, the focus is on silenced women, survival, and witness. This work honors Armenian women’s erased histories while challenging patriarchal narratives embedded in both religion and art.

Two brothers sit in a familiar diasporic space. The richly patterned carpet beneath them is more than décor—it’s a thread to a homeland beyond reach. While the scene feels timeless, the disposable mask in one brother’s hand marks the pandemic era, grounding the image in recent history. The painting reflects how culture, even displaced, remains resilient. Amid uncertainty, the carpet—like the identity it carries—anchors them across generations and global upheaval.

Spandaramet, Armenian goddess of death and memory, emerges in a haunting watercolor. This work is part of a series reviving Armenia’s pre-Christian goddesses through large-scale contemporary art. Shrouded in shadow and symbolism, Spandaramet bridges life and the afterlife, loss and legacy. She is memory embodied—an ancestral presence watching over the past. Through watercolor and myth, the painting honors a cultural lineage and invites reflection on death not as ending, but as transformation.

based on a candid 1970s photograph of my parents and part of my Family Archiving series, this work explores how memory, grief, and cultural identity evolve over time. Symbolic objects like a coffee pot, cups, and cigarettes become anchors of love and loss. Through intentional shifts in color and composition, I reimagine personal history to ask: What is truth in family memory—and does it matter? As a diasporic Armenian, this painting is a gesture of preservation and a bridge between inherited memory and the future.