Against the weight of a storm-dark sky, tender stems lean forward—some bending, some breaking, some still reaching.
They hold their fire at the tips, waiting to bloom, waiting to burn, waiting to belong to light.
Perhaps this is all of us:
stretching through shadows,
searching for the thin, golden line that divides earth from eternity.
I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one single journal at a time. I also have super ADHD, which means I pretty much never go up to my actual studio and usually only use what's out on my desk, because out-of-sight-out-of-mind.
I generally make marks on something every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day. I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.
I do generally put pen (or some kind of tool), to paper (or some kind of surface), every day, but I'm really TRYING to do it purposefully in one singular location (journal). Here is a successful attempt from that particular day.
I'm also super lazy, which means I never go up to my actual studio and only use what's out on my computer desk.
I used to doodle on caps back in 2010 and haven’t drawn on any for a few years, upon request I am creating some for an exhibition. I used white acrylic as a base before drawing using permanent ink pen.
This is no landscape you could ever stand in.
No observational drawing, no safe horizon line.
This chalk experiment is a dream unfolding in color: a golden field lit from within, a scarlet seam of fire at its edge, and a storm-heavy sky pressing down with ancient weight.
It feels like a place between worlds—where the conscious and unconscious meet, where memory and imagination blur. Some might see a battlefield, others a meadow after rain, and still others a veil between life and death. That is the beauty: the painting does not tell you what it is; it invites you to confess what you see.
Psychologists say we project ourselves onto images like these. So—what do you notice first? The light? The darkness? The burning red?
Perhaps that is not about the drawing at all, but about you.
Capturing the spaces in between and amplifying them with a play on exposure and contrast to bring forth the beauty I see within the layers. This particular play is a flower I saved from a very special event I attended. I then dried the petals of this beauty. These special petals make their way to various projects, including oil and acrylic paintings and resin on canvas. More to come :)
