these paintings began as observations.
some became questions.
some became memories.
all of them are attempts to pay attention.
feel free to explore.
fucking genius (available through inquiry)
acrylic and permanent marker on canvas, 2026 18” x 24”
this painting was created during a season where i felt caught between belief and doubt.
hidden throughout the canvas are fragments of competing thoughts: dreams, fears, encouragements, and insecurities. some of the phrases feel like anxiety. others feel like advice. together they form an argument between two voices that often exist inside me at the same time.
at the center of that argument is the phrase “fucking genius.”
i almost didn’t write it.
it felt too bold. too arrogant. too visible.
but leaving it out would have been dishonest.
the phrase is not a declaration of superiority. it’s an attempt to stop pretending i don’t have gifts. even then, the word remains partially obscured within the painting, revealing the hesitation that still exists alongside the confidence.
this work isn’t about certainty.
it’s about having a dream that scares you and continuing anyway.
heart balloon (available through inquiry)
acrylic and permanent marker on canvas, 2026 18” x 24”
this painting began with a simple confession:
“i just want to live in peace and adulthood sucks.”
as the canvas evolved, words were written, covered, revised, and painted over. what remained was a figure with its tongue out, almost mocking, while holding a heart-shaped balloon.
that contradiction became the emotional center of the work.
the figure appears cynical and sincere at the same time. defiant and tender. like someone who has become disillusioned with the world but still refuses to let go of their heart.
the balloon became a symbol of something fragile, temporary, and childlike. something worth carrying even after disappointment.
even if it makes you look foolish.
even if nobody understands why.
pruning sucks (available through inquiry)
acrylic and permanent marker on canvas, 2026 18” x 24”
this painting was created after reading john 15:2, a verse describing how god prunes the branches that bear fruit so they can become even more fruitful.
what struck me wasn’t the removal of dead things.
it was the removal of living things.
the things that appeared to be working. the things i wanted to keep.
during this season of my life, dreams changed shape, opportunities slowed, and parts of my identity felt cut back. at first it felt like loss.
then i came across a simple observation about grapevines:
fruit and foliage aren’t the same thing.
that idea stayed with me.
it forced me to ask whether i had been measuring growth by what was visible instead of what was lasting.
the title remains intentionally honest.
pruning still hurts.
but sometimes the knife is not an act of punishment.
sometimes it is preparation for fruit.
lovely little monster (available through inquiry)
acrylic and permanent marker on canvas, 2026 18” x 24”
this painting emerged from a place of play, curiosity, and childlike wonder.
scattered throughout the canvas are small requests for affection: wonder, hold my hand, kiss the artist. together they feel like the voice of the creative child within me—curious, messy, imaginative, and still looking for acceptance.
at the center is a figure that resembles a monster, though not a frightening one. even the sharp teeth meant to make it dangerous remain unfinished. the more i looked at it, the more it felt like a child who had mistaken themselves for something scary.
the title comes from a phrase that feels paternal to me.
a parent looking at the chaos, the mistakes, the neediness, and the creativity of a child and saying:
“you lovely little monster.”
not as a criticism.
as an expression of love.
this painting is about being fully seen in all of our unfinishedness and discovering that acceptance was there the whole time.
before i met you (available through inquiry)
acrylic and permanent marker on canvas, 2026 18” x 24”
this painting began with a statement written directly onto the canvas:
“so many times i’ve lived life for others. the truth is it’s not their life to live.”
created while listening to a recording of my baby’s heartbeat, this work emerged during the season between finding out i would become a father and meeting my child for the first time.
as the painting evolved, a face began to appear. its features remained simple and unfinished because it was never meant to be a portrait of a specific person. it became a portrait of possibility.
looking back, this painting feels like a moment suspended in time, the space between hearing a heartbeat and holding a child for the first time.
the strange and beautiful experience of loving someone before you’ve ever met them.