There’s a kind of magic in the moment when something ordinary flickers into inspiration. For me, it often begins with an image—sometimes a photo I stumble across, often a saved post on Pinterest—that makes my heart pause. It might be the quiet tilt of a horse’s head, the fierce light in a lion’s eye, or the raw, unguarded emotion in a person’s expression. That flicker is where the adventure starts.
I’ve always been drawn to animals and people—not just as subjects, but as storytellers in their own right. Their energy, their emotion, the way they move through space and interact with light and shadow—it’s endlessly captivating. When I paint, I’m not just replicating a form; I’m exploring what it feels like to be them, in that moment.
Pinterest has become a kind of map for me. It’s where I collect breadcrumbs—images that lead me toward the next painting, or sometimes an entire series. I don’t always know what I’m looking for, but when I find it, I know. It might be a glimpse of vulnerability, a rush of wild freedom, or the suggestion of a story I want to chase down with my brush.
Case in Point: Heart and Soul
Take this recent painting, for example. I found the original photo on Pinterest—a striking image of a jazz musician, mid-note, completely immersed in his music. The emotion in his face stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t want to simply copy it—I wanted to feel it, and let that energy lead the work.
But the process wasn’t traditional. I used no brushes—just paint rollers and palette knives of varying sizes. It was all about movement and texture, layering emotion with every swipe and scrape. The teal and copper tones weren’t part of the original photo—they emerged intuitively, as the painting developed its own rhythm. I called it Heart and Soul because that’s what he was playing with, and what I hoped to channel onto the canvas.
Some images sit in my collection for months before they spark something. Others leap out and demand to be painted. Either way, the process is never linear. It’s more like wandering through a forest—sometimes backtracking, sometimes stumbling into clearings I didn’t expect.
What ties it all together is the search for feeling. That’s what guides my hand. Whether it’s the tension in a dancer’s shoulders or the weary dignity in someone’s gaze, I’m always drawn to what’s underneath—the unspoken emotion, the pulse of movement, the life behind the eyes.
So if you ever wonder where my paintings begin, it’s here: with a moment of curiosity, a trail of images, and the courage to follow the path wherever it leads.