Artist Statement 2025

The Extended, No-Fluff Version

I make art that I think looks cool.

Not in the ironic, trying-too-hard way, I mean it literally. I follow what looks interesting to me. A weird shape. A sharp color contrast. A fleeting idea that drifts in when I’m half-zoned out watching my kids play in the yard or when the sun hits the barn wall just right.

My process doesn’t start with a deep spiritual awakening or a manifesto about the human condition. I’m not channeling divine energy or trying to “explore the duality of chaos and form” with every brushstroke. Honestly, I wouldn’t know how to fake that even if I wanted to.

I start with what catches my eye, and I follow it.

Maybe it’s the way a line curves. Maybe it’s a face that refuses to leave my head. Maybe it’s just the fact that I haven’t painted in a few days and something in me needs to move. That’s enough. That’s usually more than enough.

Sure, life inspires me, but not in the Pinterest quote kind of way. I’m inspired by dirt, by shadows, by flowers that bloom ugly before they bloom beautiful. By my kids' scribbles. By the mess of living out here on a homestead, where things are always growing, breaking, dying, and becoming something new.

I paint because I like what happens when you follow a feeling. When you give an idea a little space and let your hands figure out the rest. I like texture. I like rhythm. I like when a piece surprises me, when it goes somewhere I didn’t plan and ends up better than I could have forced.

I don’t always know what my paintings mean. Sometimes they mean nothing. Sometimes they mean something to someone else — and I think that’s the best kind of meaning.

So no, I don’t paint to say something specific. I paint because I noticed something, and I didn’t want to let it pass by unnoticed.

That’s enough for me.
If it’s enough for you too, welcome.