of all places—it was Michael’s and some unlocked cases of Montana paint markers—that not only changed the way I create today, but opened a door to creativity I never knew I had. suddenly, no more sharpies, no more failed attempts with a paintbrush. just me, a canvas, and a bucket of colors that caught my eye.  I don’t plan much. I don’t sketch. I find something that inspires me and I push paint around until something clicks—like a lightbulb flickering to life, or sometimes, just a quiet “yes, let’s see if we can make this work.” 

I used to carve up stencils like a madman. tiny, razor-sharp cuts, hours poured into something the size of a postal sticker. bruce lee. amy winehouse. odb. clint eastwood, squinting down the barrel of a .357—celebrities from the society I call mine. I couldn’t draw them, but I could make them. lay the stencil down, color in the lines, peel it back—boom, there’s clint. that moment? pure dopamine. it didn’t matter if anyone else saw it. it was mine. and it was exactly how I imagined. I chased those moments, thousands of times, wherever I wound up in Colorado. I didn’t always paint to heal. sometimes, I painted to survive the night.

most people call it abstract, but really? it’s just me. every time I peeled the stencil off a brick. every time I fell in love and the heartbreak that consumed me when it was finished. every belly laugh that ended in tears being wiped off faces. every time life knocked me flat and I got back up, it’s all in there. the inspirations, the experiments, losing everything…a few times, and the redemption of gaining it all back. the colors, the lines, the chaos—they aren’t always random. They're my life’s playlist, played in paint pens.

people always ask, “what’s the story behind this painting? tell me about it.” and I dont know what to say, or how to say it. every piece I complete, is my whole life crammed into whatever size dimension we’re looking at. it’s all there. be patient and give yourself some time. I know you’ll see it.

someone once told me: make something that could hang in a gallery. so I did. the funny part is, gallery or alley wall, it’s all the same now.