When I was a kid, I used to draw nonstop. As I got older, I got harder on myself. Now I only draw when I think I can make something big of whatever I'm doodling. I want to go back to the way I was before,
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.
Somewhere out there are a bunch of butterflies having a conversation about whether they've ever landed on a human, and one of them says "Yeah, it's an acquired taste."
One of my first landscape experiments in Photoshop. Whereas I previously was working in GIMP. I just wanted to experiment with values and distance and fog and mist, etc. The female figure adds some story to the scene.
A quiet study of restraint at altitude. Framed through an aircraft window, the world below drifts by while the interior remains still—objects worn, familiar, and waiting. Subtle distortions in perspective and muted tones emphasize the tension between motion and pause, progress and endurance. This piece captures the discipline of waiting while suspended between departure and arrival, where patience is not passive, but practiced under pressure.
Pressurized Patience
16x20 canvas
sealed interior, a distant promise, and time marked in scratches and routines.
Pressurized Patience explores endurance, isolation, and the quiet humor found while waiting under pressure.
