about me

Based in Dallas, my path back to painting was not a reinvention but a return. I began in fine art with the intention of becoming an architect. Structure, proportion, and spatial awareness became foundational. Even when life moved in other directions, that way of seeing remained.

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I left college to serve in the United States Navy during the Gulf War, working as a nuclear engineer inside one of the military’s most rigorous academic programs. I loved serving my country. My service ended under the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy. The discharge was honorable, but it reshaped me in ways both painful and clarifying. It required resilience. It refined conviction. Throughout those years, the desire to paint never disappeared. It endured.

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After the military, I built a career in user experience design, translating complex human experiences into clear systems. Structure beneath chaos. Empathy within constraint. That work eventually brought me back to Texas, to its scale, light, and weather. Once home, painting was no longer optional. It was necessary.

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At a gallery opening in Washington, D.C., a stranger once remarked that good art does not speak, it leaves you breathless. He described the right painting as something that steals the air from your lungs, like walking through God’s whisper. That standard has remained.

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Storms became my language. Growing up in Houston, hurricanes and violent summer thunderstorms were part of life. When the power failed, distraction vanished. No television. No noise. Just family gathered in candlelight. The storm carried threat and closeness at the same time. That paradox defines my work. In my paintings, dread and deliverance occupy the same sky.

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My compositions do not instruct the viewer. Horizons remain suspended. Weather may be arriving or receding. The posture is yours to determine. Within the atmosphere, there is always a glimmer of hope. It may appear as thinning cloud or fractured light. It rewards attention.

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Alongside large-scale storm paintings, I paint flowers that explore bloom, decline, and the tension between vitality and fading, grounded in the belief that each moment is unrepeatable and worthy of full attention. Bloom and decline carry equal dignity. Intensity and stillness are both deserving of reverence.

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Gratitude anchors my studio practice. The ability to create is a gift, and I treat it as such. I paint to elevate, not diminish, and to draw attention back to what truly matters.

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The dialogue between storm and stillness continues to evolve. Each body of work presses further into that tension, with greater clarity and conviction.