Art seems to be the best therapy....apparently, I need a lot of therapy
WORK
Tectonic Pressure 001
Sometimes life tries to tell me something; being a Taurus, I have a hard time listening or willingness to change. Luckily, life has a way of cranking up the pressure until things move, even mountains.
Sometimes in my painting I come back, and there will be the most subtle hue shift or one speck of color, like on the top, orange, or the subtle warm wash on the left...I'm not sure anyone else will ever see it but it makes me happy.
Iron Skies: Alone 003
For a long time, I wouldn't tell anyone how much I was hurting and alone, most of all myself. Somehow I couldn't admit, "I am not in a good place" This was a very stark and lonely time in my life. I didn't know things could get so much better..they did, better than I could imagine. I'm thankful now, I took steps, kept moving.
Oasis 001
STELA
For five thousand years, people raised stelae (standing stones carved to mark what must not be forgotten). They marked graves, borders, laws and promises. Each one said the same thing: someone was here, and it mattered.
Every piece I make carries a Stela. Sometimes you'll see it. Sometimes it's buried under layers of clay, ash and pigment, known only to the one who keeps it.
Those who see it remember it. Those who don't still feel it.
ARTIST
I've been an artist my whole life. There was never a question of whether I would make things, only what.
For more than thirty years, I painted worlds that didn't exist. I studied the old masters, learned every digital tool I could get my hands on, and crafted images that told stories: in film and television from Shrek 2 and The Aviator to South Park, and in games from Call of Duty: Black Ops II to Darksiders. I loved it.
Then I started leaving things out. One winter I painted a barn and let the empty space around it do the talking.​​
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In 2020, I stopped painting things altogether. I painted presence: space, texture, the quiet shifts in hue and value.
Something strange happened. With every painting I'd ever made, I'd walk past it later and want to fix something: the nose, the sky, the composition. These were different. Months, even years later, I loved them more than the day I finished them. The energy of that time, and where I was in life, had stayed in them.
Now when I'm somewhere new, I see palettes everywhere and want to get them down right away. I watch how nature layers color through weather, seasons, decades and centuries. That's what I paint now: time, held still