I Don’t Worship Beauty
Beauty Demands More: I Must Make—And I Must Collect—Art

Not art that’s decorative or ornamental—
Art that stops me cold….

Private viewings available in Santa Fe + NYC. Inquiries by introduction.

I was born with an eye that doesn’t look—it unveils.
A flicker of copper in a cloud. The tension in a gesture.
Where others see design, I see truth.
Where others admire beauty, I see its anatomy.

What if the masterpiece you’ve always admired… is the one still waiting within you? Each week, I sit with a newly retired corporate attorney under the wide Santa Fe sky—once a man of structure, now a man of expression…

Some artists choose their medium by logic. But for me—it's feeling. Intuitive. It's the pulse in my fingertips. I choose my medium the way I choose a lover. …

When was the last time you truly felt alive?
Not productive. Not successful. Not efficient.
Alive.
Ribcage wide. Breath caught on beauty. A soul startled back into presence….

Select collectors are invited to private viewings of this new work. Request an appointment.

What Does Your Radiance Look Like?

Where is the light within you
that you’ve not yet dared to reveal?

Where do we place the grief that has no name?

Mother’s Day passes, and for many, it brings flowers, breakfasts in bed, tiny handprints in crayon frames.

But for some of us, it reopens the oldest wound.

What was the artistic moment that first changed you?

Was it the hush before a violin's note at Lincoln Center?
The impossible blues of a Rothko in silence?
Or that moment you saw your child’s fingers dance across a piano, unsure, but divine?

Where is the golden child that never was? She lives here. In yarn and pigment. In stitched bone and unspoken prayers. Each year, Mother’s Day arrives like an old wound reopening.

My biological mother died when I was three, a casualty of Camp Lejeune’s poisoned waters….

Let me tell you something I know in my bones:
The art world is starved—not for talent,
not for trends,
but for truth.

Art, like desire, begins in the body before it lives in the mind.

We do not choose our artistic medium. Our medium chooses us—through touch, sensation, and surrender…

Why I Create With Cheetos, Pearls, Blood & Graphite—And Why You Can Too

There is a myth in the art world:
That art must come from the approved aisle at the supply store.
That creativity is polite. Predictable. Pretty.
That “serious artists” only work in oil.

Have you heard the sermon?
"Real artists go to the studio every day."
"Consistency is king."
"If you’re not creating daily, are you even serious?"

To that, I offer a brush dipped in gold—and dipped in blood.

A Love Letter to Space, Sky, and the Sublime

Have you ever encountered a painting that changed the temperature of the room?
Not through brightness or color alone—but through its stillness, stature, and silent command?

There is no greater honor than being asked to create a piece that will live in and enrich your life.

A commission is not simply a transaction—it is a communion. The collector entrusts their heart, their aesthetic, their space…

The Artist is the Offering

Not every offering is paint on canvas.

Sometimes, the offering is the life you’ve lived.

The city rhythms that beat through your bones. The way sunsets follow you across time zones. The way you hold two completely different worlds in your heart—and call both home.

"Don't only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets; art deserves that, for it and knowledge can raise us to the divine."
—LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

How devoted are you to your creative…

Have you ever stood before a painting and felt your breath still—as if the color was whispering a language only your soul could understand?

These new works—born from silence, motion, and meditation, are my offering…

Embracing Fear: Transforming Challenges into Artistic Brilliance

In the crucible of life's most daring adventures—​scuba diving with sharks, embarking on African walking safaris, rappelling the Shawangunk cliffs, or bungee jumping in Whistler—I've discovered that confronting fear head-on….

Have you ever stood before a painting and felt your breath catch?

A certain line.
A single hue.
A layered gesture that seems to echo something you didn’t even know you remembered….