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Sweeney Todd ~ For Sale

9 x 12 inches on paper

This series of pencil drawings was created on the same sheet of paper using the same pencil leads throughout. The consistency of materials was intentional, allowing me to focus entirely on control, value, and subtlety within the grayscale range.

At the time, I was deeply exploring the relationship between the lightest highlights and the darkest shadows. Expanding this value range allowed form to fully emerge—volume became believable, and the subjects gained dimensional presence. I began to understand that form is not drawn; it is revealed through light.

I worked with a dominant light source supported by lower-intensity secondary light, carefully observing how illumination dictates structure and depth. Light became the architect of the figure.

Hair, in particular, became an important study. Rather than treating it as individual strands, I learned to see it as layered shapes—soft masses built gradually through repetition and controlled value shifts.

Throughout this series, I made significant technical and conceptual advancements. It was during this period that the subtle nuances began to form—the quiet decisions in value, edge control, and layering that ultimately shaped the style present in my work today.

Kenny Powers ~ For Sale

9 x 12 inches on paper

This series of pencil drawings was created on the same sheet of paper using the same pencil leads throughout. The consistency of materials was intentional, allowing me to focus entirely on control, value, and subtlety within the grayscale range.

At the time, I was deeply exploring the relationship between the lightest highlights and the darkest shadows. Expanding this value range allowed form to fully emerge—volume became believable, and the subjects gained dimensional presence. I began to understand that form is not drawn; it is revealed through light.

I worked with a dominant light source supported by lower-intensity secondary light, carefully observing how illumination dictates structure and depth. Light became the architect of the figure.

Hair, in particular, became an important study. Rather than treating it as individual strands, I learned to see it as layered shapes—soft masses built gradually through repetition and controlled value shifts.

Throughout this series, I made significant technical and conceptual advancements. It was during this period that the subtle nuances began to form—the quiet decisions in value, edge control, and layering that ultimately shaped the style present in my work today.

Beck ~ For Sale

9 x 12 inches on paper

This series of pencil drawings was created on the same sheet of paper using the same pencil leads throughout. The consistency of materials was intentional, allowing me to focus entirely on control, value, and subtlety within the grayscale range.

At the time, I was deeply exploring the relationship between the lightest highlights and the darkest shadows. Expanding this value range allowed form to fully emerge—volume became believable, and the subjects gained dimensional presence. I began to understand that form is not drawn; it is revealed through light.

I worked with a dominant light source supported by lower-intensity secondary light, carefully observing how illumination dictates structure and depth. Light became the architect of the figure.

Hair, in particular, became an important study. Rather than treating it as individual strands, I learned to see it as layered shapes—soft masses built gradually through repetition and controlled value shifts.

Throughout this series, I made significant technical and conceptual advancements. It was during this period that the subtle nuances began to form—the quiet decisions in value, edge control, and layering that ultimately shaped the style present in my work today.

Agent Venom ~ For Sale

9 x 12 inches on paper

I created this piece to capture movement and intensity. I wanted something explosive and cinematic—like a Hollywood action sequence frozen in a single frame. The subject is Agent Venom, blasting his way through a skyscraper window. The scene is viewed in profile, giving the viewer a clear sense of direction and force.

The composition is intentionally tilted to the left, amplifying the feeling that the character is bursting out of the lower corner of the image. The city stretches behind and below him, reinforcing height and danger. Glass shards scatter outward, but their movement follows his trajectory—everything pushes in the same direction, emphasizing momentum.

I focused on creating not just action, but sensation. I wanted the viewer to almost hear the scene—the gun blasts, the crash of breaking glass, distant car horns echoing through the city streets. The goal was to engage multiple senses through visual energy alone.

This drawing became an exploration of controlled chaos—using composition, angle, and directional movement to make the still image feel loud, fast, and alive.

Jack Nicholson (The Shining) ~ For Sale

9 x 12 inches on paper

This series of pencil drawings was created on the same sheet of paper using the same pencil leads throughout. The consistency of materials was intentional, allowing me to focus entirely on control, value, and subtlety within the grayscale range.

At the time, I was deeply exploring the relationship between the lightest highlights and the darkest shadows. Expanding this value range allowed form to fully emerge—volume became believable, and the subjects gained dimensional presence. I began to understand that form is not drawn; it is revealed through light.

I worked with a dominant light source supported by lower-intensity secondary light, carefully observing how illumination dictates structure and depth. Light became the architect of the figure.

Hair, in particular, became an important study. Rather than treating it as individual strands, I learned to see it as layered shapes—soft masses built gradually through repetition and controlled value shifts.

Throughout this series, I made significant technical and conceptual advancements. It was during this period that the subtle nuances began to form—the quiet decisions in value, edge control, and layering that ultimately shaped the style present in my work today.

Spock ~ For Sale

9 x 12 inches on paper

This series of pencil drawings was created on the same sheet of paper using the same pencil leads throughout. The consistency of materials was intentional, allowing me to focus entirely on control, value, and subtlety within the grayscale range.

At the time, I was deeply exploring the relationship between the lightest highlights and the darkest shadows. Expanding this value range allowed form to fully emerge—volume became believable, and the subjects gained dimensional presence. I began to understand that form is not drawn; it is revealed through light.

I worked with a dominant light source supported by lower-intensity secondary light, carefully observing how illumination dictates structure and depth. Light became the architect of the figure.

Hair, in particular, became an important study. Rather than treating it as individual strands, I learned to see it as layered shapes—soft masses built gradually through repetition and controlled value shifts.

Throughout this series, I made significant technical and conceptual advancements. It was during this period that the subtle nuances began to form—the quiet decisions in value, edge control, and layering that ultimately shaped the style present in my work today.

Apple and Pear ~ For Sale

8 x 19 inches, Oil, Walnut oil, canvas board

This still life was an exercise in restraint and observation. Set against a dark background with a single light source, the focus was on controlling contour edges—allowing forms to dissolve softly as they recede, and sharpening only where necessary. The farther an edge moves from the light, the softer it becomes.

The apple and pear rest on an earth-toned plate of warm yellow ochre, accompanied by a knife that subtly suggests an intimate, everyday moment—a quiet snack paused in time. The knife points gently toward the background, directing energy away from the viewer and maintaining a sense of calm.

The apple’s surface is layered and complex—transparent in places, marked with subtle spotting and vertical lines, and finished with a satin-like gleam where the light strikes. The pear, by contrast, is matte, with quiet variations of green that absorb rather than reflect light. Together, they create contrast in texture and surface while remaining harmonious in tone.

Light moves softly across the forms, revealing small environmental details and shaping the space through subtle shifts in value. The painting became a study in the push and pull between dark and light—how illumination defines character, depth, and atmosphere.

Sneakers ~ Sold

8 x 10 inches Oil, Walnut oil, canvas

Vans feel like they’ve walked through stories. They carry miles, moments, and memory in their worn surfaces. I painted these Vans because of how they looked lying on the floor—emerging from darkness into light.

The shoes are visibly worn, marked with scuffs and painted traces that describe their condition and history. I leaned into those imperfections, allowing brushstrokes to emphasize texture and use. The lighting is intentionally low and dramatic, isolating them as the sole focus. Out of the dark, they rise—quiet but full of character.

Compositionally, the shoes fill the canvas. The red and black colorway pushes forward against the deep black background, creating contrast and energy. The limited palette strengthens their presence while keeping the mood intimate.

Vans are rooted in pop culture, but they also suggest something universal: time measured in experiences. These shoes feel lived in, shaped by movement and individuality. The painting carries a slightly funky, raw atmosphere—celebrating not perfection, but personality and the marks left behind.

Crescent Bay ~ For Sale

12 x 21 inches, Walnut oil canvas

Look at the view—a quiet cove where green and blue water rolls in, swell after swell. Towering cliffs rise in the background, almost prehistoric in scale, wrapping the beach in a Jurassic-like embrace. Sunlight pours down in vibrant rays, igniting the landscape with rich, saturated color.

Life feels abundant here. The water moves with rhythm, the cliffs stand steady with time, and everything seems to breathe in harmony. In this place, the noise of daily obligations and miscellaneous needs fades away. What remains is presence—pure and simple.

This is a place where time loosens its grip. You can stand still and watch the world slow down.

This painting is personal to me. I return to it as a reminder—to step away, to reconnect with joy, and to make space for fun. It captures not just a location, but a feeling: freedom, perspective, and the quiet luxury of being fully alive.

Taco ~ Sold

5 x 7 inches Oil, Walnut oil canvas

There it was, just sitting there, basking in the light. I unwrapped the paper and flattened it out on the table. When the light hit it just right, I grabbed my brushes and painted the piece in one sitting—alla prima.

I was drawn immediately to the colors and the composition of the taco resting on its crinkled wrapping paper. It felt natural, unforced. The texture of the shell caught the light beautifully; the loose pieces of lettuce added freshness and movement; the meat carried a warm, rich brown that grounded the palette.

Everything about it worked—the contrast of warm and cool tones, the folds of paper creating subtle shadows, the casual placement that made the subject feel alive rather than staged.

This taco had all the ingredients for a strong painting: texture, color, light, and spontaneity. It was simple, but in that simplicity, it became something worth capturing.

Swans ~ For Sale

5 x 7 inches, Walnut oil, canvas board

Two white shapes move slowly across the surface of a frozen pond. In the bitter cold, they stir the dark water beneath them, keeping it from sealing over completely. The air is heavy with ice and wind, yet they continue—steady, deliberate, alive within the harshness.

I watched these birds and became aware of how they endured the coldest conditions. Temperatures dropped below zero, winds cut sharply across the water, and still they carried on—swimming, adjusting, surviving. There was no drama in their movement, only persistence.

What struck me most was their quiet resilience. They did not fight the cold in grand gestures; they simply kept moving. That perseverance resonated with me at a time when I needed the reminder. Improvement, like survival, often requires staying the course—continuing forward even when conditions are unforgiving.

This painting became a record of that lesson. Nature offered it freely. The birds became the heroes of the story—not through spectacle, but through endurance.

Bald Eagle ~ For Sale

24 x 36 inches, Walnut oil, canvas

Bald eagles feel almost prehistoric—like living dinosaurs. I came across a photograph by Andy Morffew that immediately drew me in. At first glance, you notice the sheer volume and mass of the bird. Its body carries weight and authority. The claws grip firmly into the trunk of a large tree rising from the bottom of the composition, physically and visually supporting the eagle’s presence.

In my painting, I emphasized those details using thick, deliberate brushstrokes. Areas of heavy paint build the texture of feathers and reinforce the solidity of the form. The materiality of the paint mirrors the physical power of the bird itself.

What compelled me most to paint this image was the eagle’s stare. It locks onto the viewer with unsettling intensity. There is a quiet anxiety in that gaze—a realization that if this creature were scaled to the size of its ancient ancestors, it would be terrifying. The eagle is built for hunting, engineered by evolution with the same precision and purpose we associate with dinosaurs.

This painting is about awe. It is about standing in the presence of an animal and recognizing the genetic past still preserved within it—ancient power, refined and alive in the present moment.

Duck ~ Sold

Bottles ~ For Sale

36 x 48 inches, Walnut oil canvas

I used to find old bottles—medicine vials, soda concentrates, cold remedies—buried in the city while digging. They fascinated me, not only because of their age, but because of the way they were made and the lives they had quietly lived.

Some were a luminous cerulean blue; others were bent and disfigured from years of pressure beneath the earth. Time had reshaped them. The ground had pressed its story into their surfaces.

I would place them on windowsills and watch the light pass through them. At certain times of day, they carried a presence. When the light struck just right, they seemed to sing—vibrant with color, glowing from within.

I chose to paint them in large format because each bottle felt monumental. Their surfaces carried maps of survival—scratches, distortions, stress marks—evidence of endurance. One large bottle, warped from the pressure it endured, became a symbol of resilience.

I am drawn to these bottles because they have lasted far beyond their intended use. Long past expiration, they remain—altered, imperfect, but still luminous.

Anti-Work Spider-Man ~ For Sale

32 x 58 inches, walnut oil

A hero sits above a city teeming with crime. Sirens echo below. Fires burn in distant blocks. The skyline pulses with urgency. Yet he remains still — seated at the edge of a rooftop, phone pressed to his ear.

The noise of chaos surrounds him, yet he chooses connection over intervention.

Who is on the other end of the call? A grandmother who once saved him? A voice from his past reminding him who he was before expectation defined him? The viewer is left uncertain. What is clear is that, for this moment, he has decided not to act.

This work questions the cost of perpetual responsibility. It confronts the cultural myth of constant productivity and sacrifice — the idea that we must endlessly solve problems, meet expectations, and carry the weight of others. If we spend our lives fighting fires, when do we live?

The painting becomes less about crime and more about time.
Less about heroism and more about humanity.

In choosing stillness, the hero disrupts our expectations. And in that disruption, we are asked to confront our own lives:
Are we constantly responding to red dots on our personal maps?
And if we wait too long to live, what remains when the urgency finally fades?

Batman ~ For Sale

34 x 54 inches oil, walnut oil

This painting is a celebration of gaming culture and the communal experience it creates. It reflects the moments of gathering—whether online or in person—when friends and family sit on the edge of their seats, fully immersed in a shared digital world. At its core, the work honors that sense of connection born through play.

The central figure is a rare Amazing Yamaguchi Revoltech Batman action figure, chosen intentionally as both cultural icon and collectible object. As a physical artifact of fandom, it represents the intersection of nostalgia, craftsmanship, and pop mythology. Positioned at the center of the composition, it becomes both protagonist and symbol—bridging childhood imagination and adult collecting culture.

The image was first constructed digitally and then manually translated into oil paint. This dual process mirrors the subject itself: technology informing tradition. My practice consistently navigates this space between the digital and the handmade, and in this painting I consciously emphasize that tension. The work exists as a dialogue between screen-based experience and physical surface.

Beneath its celebratory tone lies a darker undercurrent. The imagery carries traces of brutality and stylized violence—elements deeply embedded in gaming and superhero narratives. I am interested in how we consume these images, how normalized they have become, and what long-term psychological effects repeated exposure to mediated violence may have. The painting tests the viewer’s comfort, asking: When does entertainment become desensitization? At what point do we stop questioning what we are seeing?

Ultimately, the work balances nostalgia and unease. It invites viewers to reconnect with the joy of shared experience while also reflecting on the visual language that shapes that experience.

Buttons ~ For Sale

16 x 20 inches, Walnut oil, canvas

This painting is part of a series in which I sourced photographs of old objects taken by individuals who were not formally trained in photography. Many of the images were drab, poorly lit, or compositionally awkward. My intention was not to improve or beautify them, but to faithfully translate what I saw—honoring the image exactly as it existed.

The Button painting carries a distinctly vintage quality. I approached it with a blend of atmospheric softness and realism, leaning into multiple painterly traditions at once. The subdued tones and quiet surface treatment preserve the character of the original photograph while elevating it through paint.

Created during COVID, the subject of piled buttons gained unexpected meaning. They rest closely atop one another, layered and intertwined—an image of physical closeness. At a time when we were required to keep our distance, this simple stack of objects became symbolic. The density of the pile contrasted sharply with the absence of human contact in everyday life.

What began as a technical exercise in observation evolved into a subtle reflection on proximity, isolation, and the quiet longing for connection.

Cuties ~ For Sale

5 x 7 inches, Walnut oil, canvas board

This painting was an exercise in alla prima—working to complete the piece in a single sitting. In my studio practice, I often create these sketch paintings as a way to refine technique and strengthen my overall work.

With this piece, I focused on brushstroke control and energy. The goal was to allow the paint to feel alive—confident and immediate—without overworking the surface. The simplicity of the composition appealed to me: three oranges, two layered together and one standing alone. There was no deeper narrative intention; the arrangement simply flowed visually, creating a natural rhythm as the eye moves from one form to the next.

I paid close attention to surface texture, building the subtle dimples and variations of the orange peel through controlled yet expressive strokes. The interplay of warm light and cool shadows became central to the study, allowing the forms to emerge fully and feel dimensional.

Though simple in subject, the painting served as a focused exploration of light, texture, and painterly energy—an essential step in developing both control and confidence in my process.

Toy Car ~ For Sale

18 x 28 inches, Walnut oil, canvas

The Tether Car painting carries a layered history. Beneath it lies another painting—one I had invested significant time in and felt deeply attached to. Choosing to paint over it was not casual. It marked a deliberate decision to let go of something from my past that I no longer connected with. Covering that image felt symbolic, as if I were releasing an older version of myself.

Almost accidentally, I selected a random photograph of a tether car that someone was selling online. The image was not composed with artistic intention; it wasn’t lit or framed the way I would have chosen. That became the challenge. I committed to painting it exactly as I saw it—without correcting the lighting, adjusting the colors, or improving the composition.

This shift became pivotal, not only in my painting practice but in my broader perspective. Instead of revisiting or refining what had already passed, I began focusing on what exists now and what could be next. The tether car, constrained to its circular track, became an unexpected metaphor: movement within limits, direction within boundaries.

Through this painting, I challenged myself to see what is directly in front of me—not what is behind me. In doing so, I learned to trust my own vision more fully and to move forward with greater clarity and intention.

Racer X ~ For Sale

8 x 10  inches, Walnut oil, canvas

Pop culture frequently finds its way into my work, and in this piece I painted the Shooting Star die-cast model car. I’ve always been drawn to its curves—the way it appears fast even while standing still. The sleek yellow gloss paired with black trim gives it an intense presence, both elegant and powerful.

To capture that energy, I used more gestural brushstrokes, allowing movement to exist within the paint itself. The strokes help convey speed and tension, as if the car might surge forward at any moment.

The narrative behind the painting deepens the image. The story centers on two brothers—one believed to have passed away, who secretly returns as the driver of the Shooting Star Racer X. He conceals his identity to protect his brother and family. This idea of hidden truth is reflected visually in the composition. At first glance, the painting appears to depict two cars. But as the viewer moves closer, it becomes clear that there is only one—the second image is merely a reflection.

The illusion mirrors the story: what seems divided is actually whole, and what appears lost may still be present.

Mach 5 ~ For Sale

8 x 10 inches, Walnut oil canvas

My favorite childhood car was the Mach 5 from Speed Racer. This car was incredible—it could leap into the air with its jumping jacks, slice through obstacles with twin saw blades, deploy new tires if one was damaged, and shield its driver with bulletproof glass. No matter the sabotage or danger, it would win the Grand Prix while every competitor tried to stop it.

In this painting, I used expressive mark-making to capture the energy and conviction embedded in that story. Even at rest, the car appears fast—charged with motion and intent. Subtle shifts in color separate the subject from the background, allowing the Mach 5 to emerge from the surface with presence and power.

As the viewer spends more time with the painting, a quiet reflection of the car begins to form. This reflection symbolizes the driver’s relationship with the machine and with those around him. He strives to be the best, yet excellence invites resistance—others seek to destroy what they cannot match. Though he has support, his ambition places both himself and those close to him at risk.

The reflection becomes more than a visual device—it becomes a metaphor for identity, pressure, and loyalty under pursuit.

Vintage Bike ~ For Sale

16 x 20 inches Oil, Walnut oil, canvas

Look at the lines—the faded green paint still holding a quiet viridian presence. This bike feels like a time capsule. Its headlight speaks of another era, and the reflections within it create bold, geometric shapes that anchor the composition.

The seat is worn, revealing subtle variations in distressed leather—evidence of years of use. Every surface carries a record of time. The vintage frame leans casually against a cement wall patched with different tones and textures, layers of repair marking the passage of years.

This painting explores the miracle of time and the endurance of quality. The bike radiates craftsmanship—trimmed with just enough nickel and paint to stand apart without excess. It is refined but not flashy, built with intention rather than spectacle.

And perhaps that is the quiet question within the work: what does our attraction to such objects say about us? Is it refined taste? Or is it something deeper—a gradual appreciation, developed over time, for things made with care, integrity, and purpose? OR? There is something dreamlike about the scene. The bike feels as though it exists in an existential pause—resting in an alley near a café, waiting for someone who may or may not return. It carries quiet history, endurance, and the poetry of objects that have lived fully and remain.

The Lost Soldier ~ For Sale

18 x 28 inches, Walnut oil canvas

This is a story we all recognize: stranded in a strange place, cut off from any lifeline. This painting explores that moment when the weight of reality settles deep in your soul—the eerie chill that comes with understanding the mortality of your situation.

A pilot has crash-landed on an unknown planet, with no communication and no clear path to rescue. Surrounded by a dense and unfamiliar environment, the pilot must navigate the wreckage alone. There is no one to call, no guidance to rely on. Survival depends entirely on personal resolve.

It is unsettling to realize that you are completely alone and that everything now depends on you. That awareness—quiet, heavy, and undeniable—is at the core of this work.

Painted during COVID, the piece reflects the isolation so many of us experienced. The crash becomes symbolic: separation, uncertainty, and the sudden loss of normalcy. In that stillness, the question becomes not who will save you—but how you will move forward.

The Dude ~ For Sale

14 x 11 inches, Oil, Walnut oil, linen

It began as a playful idea, but during its execution an unexpected technical breakthrough emerged. What started as a relaxed, almost experimental painting evolved into a shift in how I construct form and surface.

While working through the composition, I began allowing individual marks to remain visible rather than blending them into a polished finish. Instead of building the image through traditional layering or underpainting, I constructed it through accumulated gestures—each brushstroke carrying structural weight. The painting developed through rhythm and movement rather than strict rendering.

This moment altered my approach to oil painting. I realized that precision and looseness did not have to compete; they could coexist. Measured tools like triangles and dividers still informed proportion, but the surface itself became more alive, less restrained. Forms emerged gradually through the energy of repeated marks.

The breakthrough was not planned. It happened through process—through trust in the material and a willingness to let the painting reveal itself. The Dude marks a turning point in my practice, where technique shifted from replication toward interpretation. Since then, my work has embraced this balance between structure and freedom, allowing the image to feel constructed yet immediate, controlled yet alive.