
From Void to Creation: The Story Behind Psychedelic Pebbles

At Psychedelic Pebbles, my art begins in the spaces words can’t reach—where thoughts, feelings, and memories fold into lines, patterns, and rhythms that seem to have always existed inside. Through this creative process, I translate my inner world into something visible, something tangible.

As an autistic artist with aphantasia (the inability to invoke mental images), my perception of the world is uniquely my own. I don’t experience things visually in the traditional sense. Instead, I process life through my eyes, then filter it through a vast, dark space where patterns, rhythms, and movements unfold. From this space, my style emerged—rooted in line work, symmetry, and an infinite progression of patterns that feel both natural and instinctual. Over time, my art has evolved, merging all of these elements into what I share today. I invite you to explore my work here and join me on this journey of perpetual creation.
A Drawing Unfolds Into the Void and Back Out
Why Psychedelic Pebbles
Through a philosophical lens,Psychedelic Pebblestakes shape. Even when I was younger, my drawings were often called “psychedelic” or “trippy,” though I didn’t understand why. I wasn’t creating in an altered state—it was simply what was happening inside me. Over time, it became clear: it wasn’t just a style; it was part of who I was. And so, Psychedelic Pebbleswas born—Pebbles being my middle name, it just worked. While the term psychedelicis still taboo to some, I believe that, when properly understood, it shouldn't carry such weight.

The word "psychedelic" comes from the Greek words psychḗ (mind, soul) and dēleín (to manifest), meaning "mind manifesting." While psychedelics are often associated with mind expansion, I believe that’s an oversimplification. Mind manifestation is unique to each individual, and we all experience it in different ways, especially with the heightened brain activity of neurodivergence. "Psychedelic" as in Autistic really answered something I had felt for a long time.
This idea became clearer to me as I learned about aphantasia—the inability to form mental images—and how it connected to my own experience.

Aphantasia comes from Aristotle's concept of phantasia. Aristotle describes phantasia as "that in virtue of which an image occurs in us." This resonates deeply with me because I experience it through the dark—where memories, vivid multidimensional dreams, and emotions unfold in a place where I don’t need to visualize to see the things I imagine. Aristotle linked phantasia to thoughts, dreams, memories, and even hallucinations, distinguishing it from perception. I love this distinction because it speaks to the vastness of the mind, and the complexity we all carry as human beings.

Instead of creating from visual imagination, I create from an instinctual flow that I’m obsessed with. My process is less about what I see and more about what I feel—an intuitive dance between memory, thought, and emotion. It’s a rhythm that unfolds naturally, where sensations and ideas merge into the lines, forms, and patterns that define my art. These marks feel as though they’ve always existed through me, waiting to be uncovered. My art is an unfolding journey of the mind—a window into my experience, untethered from traditional visual representation and always in motion.
