Artwork

February 26, 2025

February 26th, 2020. The snowfall to me is such a funny thing. Its tranquility is something I’ve grown to love. In adolescence, it became my medium for meditation. To escape the busyness of the world with the flutter of falling flakes. Yet, I’ve realized it’s what’s responsible for troubling my heart. I lost the love of my life only due to the icy weather. With the snow, only did that violent cluster of twisted automobile came into existence. Many years later, waiting for snowfall for my last moments became an obsession. I found a place to spectate that last snowfall, where water falls in the forest to carve stone. As I lean against an old maple’s trunk, I lay watching guard of a stone grotto temple at the base of the falling stream. This temple has no worshipers but only prayers from the whistling branches. There is a sacredness I find in this place’s beauty. A sacredness I myself no longer share. The lone guard of this temple has grown old and tired. Complacent with the agonies of life. The frozen flakes drift down to smother most sounds. Blanketing me with its comfort. The wind kisses my neck, running it’s chilling fingers down my spine. My dulled and greyed eyes grow heavy. From the little light left from the winter night sky, glistens the landscape to reveal a faint figure in the dark’s thickness. It’s my love greeting me to a long-awaited reunion. Reaching her hands out for mine, closer and closer as her figure enclosed in on my restful state. Until her spirit wraps around me. Her warm embrace only cools. First my skin, then the fibers of my being. Now finally the cold creeping into my slowing heart.

February 23, 2025

For 15 years, I built a career in software engineering. Working my way up the white-collar ladder. At the height of my career, working up to the Director or Executive level. At times, running my own businesses. My same-aged friends coined the nickname “Young Money” for me, which I was never big on being titled. Sooner or later, I believe all of us working in an office setting eventually reflect and ask ourselves, “What am I doing?” Questioning if what we’re doing is even meaningful. Maybe longing for the outdoors and venturing into the rest of the world beyond the concrete highrise walls in that corporate park. This painting is meant to exemplify that moment of reflection.

February 2, 2025

A few years ago I had accomplished a dream of mine and won my way with my beloved team to the United States Tennis Association National Championships. I had spent many years prior, captaining and building teams just to fall short of winning districts each year. Finally winning our season, sectionals, districts, state, and then winning the Midwest championship; we finally did it. This painting isn’t about the feeling of defeat on the court, as that’s always a chance to improve and grow. I didn’t lose in that aspect, because I was nearly undefeated that year and was almost a guaranteed win on doubles. This painting represents the agony, disappointment, disgust, and deceit, I felt when I learned I could not go to play alongside my friends in the championship in Scottsdale Arizona. I had let my team down and missed out on a once in a lifetime accomplishment.

January 24, 2025

Just Out Of Reach is a watercolor painting beautifully capturing the essence of a peaceful winter night. At its heart is a quaint log cabin, softly illuminated by a warm, golden light emanating from its windows, contrasting against the cool blues and whites of the snowy landscape. Towering evergreen trees, heavily dusted with snow, create a dense and textured forest backdrop, adding depth and a sense of quiet isolation to the scene. The faint tracks in the snow leading to the cabin hint at human presence, while the figure kneeling in the foreground adds a touch of mystery and humanity. The overall composition blends warmth and cold, light and shadow, evoking both the stillness of winter and the comfort of a welcoming home.

January 6, 2025

A faux Stargazer lily decorated the shelves at the bar where we met, and you noted its identity and your fixation; in the aspirations of our conversations. When you brought me home, Easter lilies were decorated throughout your bedroom, complimenting the white orchid that was center stage of the contemporary decor. In one of my first attempts of affection for you, I transplanted Tawny Daylilies from the wilds of the valley where I grew up into the suburban yard that welcomed you each weekend. In front of one of Monet’s works of water lilies, we first exchanged the words “I love you” with one another. You wanted Royal Lilies to partner the echos of violins at our future wedding. There was a twinkle in your eye discussing your desire to visit a vast field of Avalanche Lilies in the mountains. It was Madonna Lilies I placed on the mound of your grave. The repeated significance of the flowers is why they were symbolically hosted in my home in troves for so long, and why a single white one was left to the lost soul that ignited my ambition to face my loss; in a sign of both of our gratitude and valedictions. I’ve hiked and traveled the world for you; to honor both of us. Nothing has tugged more at my heartstrings than as much as this mountainous view. So… Will you sit with me, with this spectacular sun setting view? One last time. I painted these flowers for you, my dear.

December 20, 2024

February 26th, 2020. “You’ve grown tired, have’t you dear?”, she reassured. “It was too difficult. I’m so sorry. I failed you”, was my excuse. My stature felt different, like the weighing years had melted off and I was almost floating. She snuck in closer and whispered in my ear with her arms wrapped around me, “I understand. It’s alright now. It’s time to rest.” “Just five more minutes? You know how much I missed this”, I pleaded like an innocent child. “I suppose. Maybe you’ll see me when you awake, but it’s a surprise”, as she somehow wrapped herself around me even more. It was just like her to say something alluring like that. A cold winter wind blew against my neck and creeped throughout the rest of my body, but it felt as though a warmth was melting me asleep. My eyes grew heavy as my head dropped on to her soft shoulder. It was becoming too difficult to fight to stay awake, but I was already asleep. I expelled my last bit of energy to muster up one last, “I really missed you.” Finally closing my eyelids and letting go, drifting off. Was this really her loving hug again, after all these years? Or was this just me, making the rounds in my head, to embrace death?

November 28, 2024

This watercolor painting depicts a bold and festive red Christmas stocking adorned with the name “Ben” in dark, block letters at its center. The stocking’s textured surface showcases rich, layered shades of red, giving it a realistic and slightly worn appearance, while its white, fluffy cuff contrasts beautifully with a subtle mix of cream tones, evoking a cozy, wintry feel. The dark, almost black background creates a dramatic contrast, making the stocking the focal point and giving the composition a sense of warmth and nostalgia.

November 21, 2024

I knew an old wise woman once. She told me to make my way back to Strasbourg, so I did. From her pine framed window, she bid farewell, “Okay now. I’ll be seeing you.” With her gaze and expression of both endearment and concern, but excitement for me. Looking on in to the day’s sun. This painting perfectly captures those feelings and experiences with my dear old friend.

November 11, 2024

One Last Walk With Izzy is a exquisite watercolor painting depicting a peaceful countryside scene, where a man walks alongside his faithful Border Collie dog companion across gently rolling hills bathed in golden sunlight. The vibrant hues of green and yellow fields blend harmoniously with the rich textures of the trees, creating a sense of depth and tranquility. A cozy house sits nestled on the distant hill, framed by soft clouds drifting through a serene sky. This artwork beautifully captures the simplicity and charm of rural life, making it a perfect piece for adding warmth and a touch of nature to any space.

October 29, 2024

Fruitcake Delivery is just in time for the upcoming holidays, this quaint winter scene showcases a Fruitcake delivery truck and it’s driver preparing to drop off it’s abundant order of 30 fruitcakes to the anxiously awaiting recipient in the blue snow covered house. A wasteful purchase that would later go on to be donated to the local food bank, with an absurd and humorous smile. The package handler’s confident movements inferring that him and homeowner inside are intertwined in scandalous love affair. The glow of light from the windows adds to the charm of the painting. The neighbor’s house seems set in but yet still glowing with life. As is with the main focus of the blue house with white trim, with it’s windows inviting a sense of warmness away from the cold wind. The calmness of the winter night should be heard in mind. It’s left up to the viewer to form their own opinions of what the delivery figure may be thinking or what will transpire when the door bell rings.