Do You Remember When We Were Storm Chasers?
On the nights when the air was viscous and alive and dark clouds rolled over what we once thought were mountains and now know to be hills,
your eyes held sparks as you asked if I wanted to go for a drive.
How could you be so brave while I sat next to you, fingers crossed in prayer that the rubber wheels holding our matchbox of a car to the ground would be enough?
Oil on Canvas
18x36
Aromantic
I went out walking in an attempt to answer that most self-absorbed of life’s questions: why am I the way I am?
At first, as I looked out, all I could see was lack. There is a specific grief in losing the safety of convention. In coming to understand the difference between want and the desire to want. Looking into the void that claims to be the crux of humanity, seeing nothing but the ghost of lies past.
And then, remembering I’m an artist, I began to look at the light between the branches. I was taught to see the beauty and complexity of the negative space and the life that exists without. The forest is more than the trees.
It is a quiet thought, but one that has helped that so-called lack take shape, and for today, it’s enough.
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire
There are some places that will always exist, if only in memory.
That vivid shag carpet and La-Z-Boy pointed toward a TV with only two channels will live forever in my mind.
Sitting at the feet of my grandfather,
who taught me how to cheat at every game we ever played,
exploring the boxes of paper dolls and jars full of buttons.
Who could want for more?
Oil on Canvas
18x26
A Moments Repose
For a moment, I exist in the in-between
basking in the rarity of a mind at rest
What do you think about
when you are thinking of nothing at all?
Right now, in the warmth of this tangerine light
I am listening to the soft tinkling of the music of the spheres
and trying to put words to the melody.
Oil on Wood Panel
30x30
On Pender
There was a night I walked laps around these streets
when change was the only certainty.
I was already mourning the life I had built on shaky ground.
How many versions of me walked back through that door and what meandering paths did they choose?
Now sitting in the privileged perspective of hindsight, I can't help but wonder
where are they now?
oil on canvas
30x30
Underwater
I think I belong underwater.
Or at least a part of me does.
Sometimes, I feel as though I am gasping for air;
Why all of a sudden is there not enough?
Maybe what I need is the water.
Maybe I could find my oxygen just below the surface
If I could only feel that light but constant pressure and allow my hair to flow...
I think I am looking for a respite from the gravity of the situation.
Oil on Wood Panel
24x30
