I paint the people who stay with me
the ones shaped by land, time, and being together.

These aren’t just images.
They’re moments that don’t leave.

Sometimes someone will look at a painting and say,
“I think I recognize someone in this.”

I hear that more often than you might expect.

And I think that’s the point.

The figures I paint aren’t portraits of specific individuals.
They’re built from memory
from people I’ve known, places I’ve been,
and the quiet weight of shared experience.

I’m not trying to document a single moment.
I’m trying to hold onto a feeling.

A closeness.
A presence.
Something that feels lived in.

When someone sees themselves or someone they know in the work,
it tells me the painting is doing what it’s supposed to do.

It’s no longer just mine.

It belongs to a larger memory.

And maybe that’s what painting has always been for me 
a way of keeping something from leaving completely.

If something in the work feels familiar to you,
it may already have a place in your life.