This painting began with a photograph taken during a cycling trip, but it quickly became about more than a single ride. Commissioned for the home of a lifelong cyclist, the work reflects the connection between movement, reflection, and the passage of time.

The three bicycles represent different chapters of a cycling life: a vintage Guerciotti, a Trek mountain bike, and a BMC road bike. Each marks a different way of moving through the world—road riding, trail riding, endurance, exploration—but together they tell one continuous story.
For the collector, cycling is more than exercise. It is a way to quiet the mind and reconnect with the spirit—a moving meditation. The process of creating this painting felt much the same. Layer by layer, the work evolved through repetition, focus, and attention, revealing its direction over time rather than all at once.

The stone wall, built with acrylic paint and metal foil, became central to the piece. The reflective foil catches changing light throughout the day, giving the surface movement and depth. What first appeared fragmented gradually resolved into structure and rhythm, much like memory itself.

The landscape above the wall remains atmospheric and slightly undefined, while the bicycles are grounded but still lightly rendered, allowing them to function both as objects and symbols. The painting holds onto traces of earlier layers and decisions, making the process visible within the finished work.
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At its core, this piece is about continuity—how a lifetime is shaped through repeated acts of attention, whether that means riding a bicycle or standing in front of a canvas.

Commissions, by their very nature,  come with  discerning clients---but  few were as exacting as one highly discriminating, very particular seven-year-old with a vision. The assignment: create a jellyfish piñata worthy of a birthday celebration.

Constructed from paper mâché, Mod Podge, and shimmering mylar, it had to be strong enough to suspend eight pounds of candy overhead without raining gummy bears (prematurely) onto unsuspecting guests. At the same time, it couldn't be too strong. There is a fine line between “durable party decoration” and “indestructible party decoration” especially when its destiny rests in the hands of a bat-wielding band of short attention-spanned second graders.

After hours of layering, drying, reinforcing, adjusting, experimenting, and negotiating with gravity, the jellyfish finally floated into existence—iridescent, magical, and ready for sacrifice.

Like many creative endeavors, it was an absurd amount of work for a very brief payoff. Hours of labor for minutes of joy. But then again, watching a room full of children gleefully reduce your work to confetti while candy rains from the sky may be one of the purest forms of artistic success.

​Some commissions arrive with simple instructions: make it elegant, make it whimsical, make it blue.
And then there are the assignments that instantly improve your day:
"I’m a Star Wars fan. I work in mental health care. Can you make  a lightsaber?"
Now we're talking!
This particular lightsaber began with selenite crystal—a material that already looks as if it belongs somewhere beyond the Outer Rim. Selenite doesn’t just reflect light; it seems to hold it, glowing with that mysterious I-might-be-an-ancient-Jedi-artifact energy.
The hilt took shape in sterling silver, while mokume-gane added swirling layered patterns that resemble star maps, planetary weather systems, or perhaps the fingerprints of an entire galaxy.
Selenite also has a reputation in crystal lore for promoting calm, clarity, and energetic cleansing. Scientific proof is another matter, but I love the idea of a mental health professional carrying a crystal associated with peace and balance. It feels appropriate somehow.
Because this wasn’t really becoming a traditional lightsaber. This was a therapist lightsaber. A Jedi healer's lightsaber.
Not designed for intergalactic combat. Designed for emotional support.
Its powers might include deflecting negative self-talk, reducing anxiety, and slicing neatly through intrusive thoughts. 
Anyone can fight the dark side of the galaxy. Helping people fight the dark side of Tuesday afternoon takes an entirely different level of Force sensitivity.