I paint what I can’t put in to words.
Some people learn to control their emotions.
I, at one point, learned to paint them.
My work begins where language ends.
What you see on canvas isn’t decoration — it’s what burns underneath: raw emotion, personal transformation and the courage to feel what you'd rather silence.
"Not decoration, but visual reminders."
My path wasn’t straight. I started out in business. Reason over feeling. Structure over instinct — until it no longer made sense. At the age of 50, I chose what had been smoldering since childhood: Art.
A boyhood dream, finally given oxygen. The ember became a flame. Since then, that one moment of courage is what I build on every day — with paint, palette knives and fire.
Every layer, every texture, every painting is part of a story that’s still unfolding. My story. But maybe also yours.
Want to see how my story takes shape? Scroll down.
My work is marked by layers.
My work is marked by layers — in color, in texture, in emotion.
Each series, each painting reveals a different form of transformation.
From grief to strength. From rage to calm. From silence to expression.
From heartbreak to healing. From the unsaid to something brave enough to speak.
I work instinctively - with acrylics, palette knives, oil paints, my hands and charcoal.
What I cannot put into words, I pour onto the canvas.
Not perfectly. But true.
What you see, you feel.
And sometimes, it touches something you hadn’t realized you’d lost.
There’s power in stillness.
Not everything I create comes from struggle.
Sometimes, it’s quiet. Sometimes, it’s soft.
Sometimes, it’s just a breath I needed to take —
before everything burns again.
I found out that even stillness has fire in it.
This is how I work.
With instinct. With honesty. With fire.
Not to impress. But to move, to touch, to gently awaken.
Because sometimes art has to burn a little.
