Make art.
Not to be seen—but to see yourself clearly again.
We create to heal, not impress.
To regulate and soften the noise—
To remind the body: you are safe.

In a world that demands productivity,
art invites presence.
It’s how we remember our humanity.

You need beauty.
You need quiet.
You need connection—especially with yourself.

Art offers a gentler mind toward our choices.
Art gives forgiveness.
A mirror.
A pause.

Art is the act of loving yourself—
not in theory, but in practice.
It takes courage to make something,
even if no one claps.
Even if no one sees.

Because the one who needs to see it most
—is you.

You don’t need to create to be remembered.
You create to remember yourself….

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. …

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?

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….

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.

"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…

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….

Have you ever stood in front of a painting and felt it breathe?

Not just seen—but felt. As if the canvas was alive with memory, with movement, with something you couldn’t quite name… but longed to. This is the art I create…

There is something sacred about a closed door, a quiet room, and a canvas waiting.

These days, I don’t teach in large classrooms or paint on demand for gallery floors. I’ve chosen a more intimate path. I work exclusively with private clients—whether it’s a retired executive finally listening to the long-held whisper of their inner artist, or a collector searching for a piece that stirs soul-memory.

Because time is the new luxury—and mine now belongs only to art. There comes a moment in a sovereign life when success is no longer enough. Not when measured in numbers, but in minutes.

I had built a thriving art education business—Santa Fe Art Classes—where thousands of beautiful souls dipped their brushes into wonder for the first time…

There are moments in life that ask us to be more than ourselves. To hold space not only for our own tender stories, but for others whose hearts echo with similar ache. On April 10, I have the profound honor of leading a private, sacred art experience…

There’s a moment.
You walk into a room and your breath catches.
Not because of the furniture, or the view—
but because of the painting….It beckons you.