Artist’s Statement

Where the effortless and accidental become unforgettable, my work is a layered conversation between the sublime and the discarded. I am a digital painter and collage artist, but more accurately, a collector of fragments—Greek sculpture, stormy landscapes, goldfish, sharp edges, 1950s Americana, biblical and angelic motifs, the fall and the redemption. I borrow liberally from the public domain and the detritus of culture, hand-embellishing digital pieces until they become one-of-a-kind, limited edition relics.

I grew up wild in the Brazos River Valley, barefoot and half-feral, finding beauty in rusted tractors, overgrown pecan trees, and the divine in neglect. That childhood—muddy, poor, and dilapidated—taught me to see magic in patina and fragility, to find the celestial in the simple, and to refuse the future’s certainty. My art is a mirror: it asks, “Is that about me?” and waits for the viewer to answer. Whatever you feel—discomfort, silliness, sadness, anger—it belongs to you. The work evokes, it doesn’t project. If you’re unsettled, you own the discomfort; if you laugh, you find your own absurdity; if you’re moved, you trace your own losses.

I poke fun at beauty, youth, fashion, and materialism, redirecting attention to the enigmatic and uncertain. My process is guided by phrases that stick: “Everything is cleanable and replaceable.” “There is beauty in that which we run from.” “Wishin’ ain’t getting.” “All that glitters is not gold.” I believe humans are fearfully and wonderfully made—complex, not complicated—and that our contradictions are a source of beauty, not shame.

Irreverence is my compass, but I let the work reveal the viewer to themselves. Wise men follow fools, or maybe there are no wise men at all. In the end, I art as I write: to connect, to challenge, and to invite you to stare into the piece—and let it stare back.