I do not have an abstract “style”. My work is inspired by an emotion and concept- not a style or trend. Most often paintings are created through experiences - experienced or day dreamed- to evoke a reaction and a chance for different stories to be told through the same piece of work.

Together
(Xebec SF)

48” x 60” acrylic, chalk, spray paint, mixed media on wood.

So, when I set out to create this piece for my cousin’s new restaurant, I wanted to embrace a simple idea of the hug (see what I did there)? The impact of a hug- between friends, between a couple, as a group, in celebration and in grief. That human contact through a hug means you’re not just putting your arm around one another, but you’re also literally touching hearts (I know it sounds totally lame, but it’s sort of true). I kept trying- with different positions, arm angles, hand details- nothing seemed right, and I almost just threw away this huge 4’ x 6’ wood panel.

After looking at a ton of photos, of people, of paintings, I realized I was trying to replicate exact proportions within the painting, versus express an energy FROM the painting. It became more than a hug. It was about people- together, feeling different emotions through contact. It became almost a visual of what I missed through quarantine a few years back, and emotions I still feel. Emotions that are brought together when, well, people are together. A celebration of my cousin who makes a living creating spaces where people can do just that. Be together.

When I was almost done, I again thought “maybe this idea is stupid.” I went to dinner with my son this past weekend, and next to us was a gathering of a bunch of old friends who literally looked like they could have been coming from an MMA fight. Hearing them speak - saying hello/goodbye - everything started and stopped with a huge hug. They were happy to see each other. They were sad to see each other go. But the hugs were the same. It made me feel better about the idea because it was real life.

I guess in the end I really didn’t care as much of what I “expected” to see. I just wanted to create something that celebrated a feeling, versus focused on a perfect visual. The feelings are real, and regardless of aesthetic, it communicates the story I wanted to tell. Hopefully…

< Details of scenes within scenes, reflecting layers of emotions, conflict and togetherness in countless forms.

A community of people all different, but deep down the same, coming together to connect in any way they can. Including through music.

My parents forced me to play the saxophone in 4th grade- well, not specifically the saxophone, but any instrument. It just ended up being the saxophone because I thought it looked cool. In grade school, 4th grade was the year music in schools were taught. I ended up playing the tenor sax through middle school, into high school, college, and into my adult years - in various jazz and rock bands, parties, clubs and at homes. It was a blast, and I’m thankful my parents pushed during those early years.

My parents also own a mini-grand piano- a mini grand they purchased when I was around 12. My Dad had always wanted one, even though he himself didn’t play. Around the same time, as I was “coming out of my shell” into high school, I found myself at parties and homes where a piano would sit, though without anyone to play it. It usually sat there in the dark. 88 keys that almost looked like a frown. Begging for attention for anyone to sit next to it. And play. Play anything- play popular tunes, Happy Birthday, Chopsticks- whatever. The little I taught myself in the beginning, was returned in the form of instant communal reaction - you realize it doesn’t matter that you don’t know how to play Billy Joel’s Piano Men perfectly- only that you know how to play the first chord to the chorus, introducing the group to the next words “Sing us a song, you’re the Piano Man…”. They would then take over. Every time. People WANTED to gather. To sing. To enjoy each other’s company. It was then that I decided I would self-teach myself the piano.

Now don’t get me wrong- I’m not Beethoven or Billy Joel. The songs I taught myself are stripped down, recognizable only in their root baselines and melodies, leaving space for the critical contributions of out-of-tune friends and family (including myself) who just want an opportunity to connect. To throw caution to the wind (usually with a few cocktails to help), and belt out versus and choruses that either bring back memories, or in the moment, are are creating new ones in the present.

That’s what this piece means to me. A community of people all different, but deep down the same, coming together to connect in any way they can. And through music, as is usually the case, that connection is immediate, contagious, and deep down in our soul, needed.

Colorway Series (Xebec SF)

Xebec is a San Francisco Mediterranean fusion restaurant. The smaller, more intimate setting boasts a dining and bar area with room for a small jazz quartet up front, and larger private dining in the back as well as downstairs. With this set of 48” x 60” color studies on wood panels, the concept paralleled the dining experience and menu itself. With “twists” to many popular items on the dinner and cocktail menu, this set is placed between the front and back of the house as a tribute to the tension between the unexpected yet familiar. Acrylic, spray paint, mixed media substrates and chalk mimic the deeper textural notes similar to the experience itself.

Commissioned 48” x 60” acrylic and mixed media on wood panel.

Continuing with experimentation and starting this piece with a fabric of disparate paintings combined into one. I wanted to represent the past- of all things good and hard- as an influence not only of where you are, but where you’re going. Your past is not your future, but it deserves credit for who you are today. 

This piece was commissioned by one of my toughest clients (my Mom)…going in her spacious Napa family room- a place of entertaining, relaxing, and togetherness. My Mom moved to Napa with my Dad to “retire”. They love/loved it up there, and when my Dad passed away due to an unexpected illness, it shattered so many of us while leaving a void in my Mom’s home forever etched.

When my Mom asked for a piece in that reflected that of a serene landscape (a previous painting in my house currently), it didn’t seem right to create something that felt, well, serene and calm. If you’ve ever been in a house full of Middle-Easters and Italians, it’s anything but calm. But more than that, though my Dad’s passing happened almost 10 years ago, the anger, disappointment, loss and longing is fresh every day. Every day you wake up, you feel the void, and all the beauty you see is often times abrasive with the notion that it's missing a key member.

So, in this experimental piece, I tried to adhere to my Mom’s request- a serene landscape- but one that reflected the texture, layers and imperfection often felt when a loved one SHOULD be in that room, but won’t be.

The experimentation is also in a question I ask myself- at what point does a painting become a sculpture? There’s raw canvas, peeled paper, acrylic mediums, brush strokes, ink, graffiti- you name it- creating many “mini scenes” based on which section you decide to keep your focus. There’s dusk (my favorite time of day), sun setting on a well-spent day into the optimism of what the evening might bring. But through all the colors, there’s still a roughness of imperfection, that though is painful to feel, can also be appreciated, because with it comes the nostalgia and emotion of the love you feel for someone so close to you missing. I guess sometimes voids can be considered a good thing if you try hard enough - it helps you appreciate the person who should be occupying it even more…

I have no idea if this makes sense. I don’t care. I hope you like it Mom…

As a centerpiece for a new residence in San Mateo, this project was created in partnership with the homeowners, who were determined to use orange as a major component to the overall piece- something I rarely do.

Given the location and size of the wall where this canvas would hang, this piece needed to evoke evoke calm and serenity, while providing color in a room dominated by large areas of neutral space. With orange dominating from the get-go, it was important to use texture and a variety of paint mediums to lean into natural tones versus a vibe that felt over saturated with bright hues. The washes and inks combined with water and acrylic also provides motion and energy even in its more serene moments.

Conceptually, the shapes and forms provide dimension and a horizon line- both vague and detailed. The horizon appears to be finite, but upon a closer look, one realizes there is no real end. This references future possibilities, without forgetting a strong sense of where you are in the present.

When creating pieces for living spaces or dining areas, I frequently imagine what a passionate meal among friends and family might look like. Multiple conversations, hands waving, laughing, exclamations- what is
that visual?

In this set of set of three 24” x 36” mixed media paintings on canvas, each panel evokes energy but is unique to its space. Layers of acrylic, graffiti and chalk provide texture and dimension, as if one was an onlooker of a scene where no one wants to get up, and no one wants to give in. If the energy of a Saturday night dinner (with wine of course) were a painting, this would be it.

Midnight Floral

Drip

40” x 40’ acrylic on canvas

Blurred pink florals against midnight hues was essentially an accident. This is one of the paintings that sort of “painted itself”, as this was not the original intent of the piece. With a dark background starting as the main feature, gestures and brush strokes became brighter blooms. Light touches of stems and leaves evokes a dreamy vibe, avoiding literal imagery and allowing the viewer to fill in the gaps. With limited detail and rough forms, the exaggerated focus on bright moments reflects the idea that without the darkest moments, you cannot have the brightest contrasts.

30” x 40” acrylic on wood board

This was a happy accident early on in my painting “career”, working on colors not really common in my work. Swiping back and forth, the thick teal layers stuck to the wood, while the thinner, more viscus top layer looked for opportunities to find its way through. Little did I know, this was symbolic of how I personally was feeling at the time- stuck, confused and trying to stay optimistic, looking for a way to break through and feel better about myself and my work.

40” x 40” acrylic on canvas

Created during a turbulent moment in time for me, this piece is a personal experiment in color contrast. I don’t usually know what I’m going to paint until I start painting, and for some reason (or many reasons), I started embracing the darkness I felt at that moment. The strokes here are made by bufffing in the paint by hand versus using a brush, which gave the acrylic tones an oil feel. At some point, I grabbed greens and red tones unplanned- maybe it was the energy expended with the huge swatch of black, but the reds and greens began to take over the darkness, at which time, grabbing titanium white, and in one stroke, a “silver lining” broke through.

Painting as therapy - and with emotion- has always been a theme for me, and in this instance, it’s easy to see the connection.

Reflections

Break

Commission 36” x 48” acrylic and oil on canvas.

No brush strokes were harmed in the making of this painting…. I had to paint outside, where gravity was the key aspect of creating this piece. Starting with a variety of acrylic mediums, textures and laying paint down from the top allowed for a natural and unpredictable pattern of paint flow. Midway through, I added oil-based varnish, to see how water and oil-based paints reacted (or repelled) each other, interacting in a cream hue that transitioned into a moody, dark brown finish. Touches of white were then added to provide an imaginary horizon line, evoking an idea of “something” in the distance left up to the viewer’s imagination.

Commissioned 24” x 48” acrylic on canvas.

I had no idea what I was going to paint with this one. Like many of my paintings, I started out with a sort of “blind” acrylic approach- laying down various mediums on a blank canvas in a rough, random manner. As ink and acrylic were layered on, I sprayed water judiciously and maneuvered the canvas to flow the paint over the acrylic layers. Flowing over the textures revealed a topical landscape formation, appearing as a top-down, or geological “rock break”. I continued to expand on this idea- that rather than see breaks and cracks as damaging, it can yield brightness and hope in it’s underlay.

This theme is common in many of my painting s(unintentionally)- through tension, stress and the struggle of dire circumstances, comes perhaps a brighter, stronger, more hopeful future.

24” x 36” acrylic and mixed media on canvas

I used to get a lot of calls to add texture to paintings, when most of my work was flat. It didn’t come natural to me- I guess I was scared of the unknown- what mediums to use, how the textures would affect the painting itself, and what rationale in the first place did I have to create dimension other than the ask itself.

This is one of the first paintings where I just “went for it”- 3 layers- graffiti, then texture and paper, then acrylic. The order of applications created a tension between an urban vibe and the serenity of landscape paintings. The final result created a rough horizon sunset that though peaceful, reflected a more raw approach with detail beyond what you see on the surface. A theme that’s starting to emerge more and more in my work.

In Between

Graffiti Florals

24” x 36” acrylic, spray paint and pastels on canvas, framed in walnut.

The request for this commissioned piece came in with asks to include olive, navy, dusty rose hues and cream in a landscape-type vibe. The household this art was going to is full of energy- Two active parents involved in sports, coaching, school- while their kids follow suit and never want to stop (in a great way). So, it was only fitting to create a flow that included moments of calm, moments of movement, and when picking your head up, a combination of the two to appreciate the beauty of both.

It’s easy to get caught up in the daily rush- too easy. The more you try to slow things down, the faster they go (for some reason), so sometimes a moment to remind yourself that the beauty is in the in between is not only nice, but necessary.

18” x 22” ink and spray paint on watercolor paper

A study in patience and faith, this composition was created by applying a layer of paint when the previous layer was almost dry (but not fully). This produced a dimensions and depth, while blending floral forms that were both descript but also ambiguous. The paint combinations and colors were unpredictable, as is every Spring, when it’s unknown just how a garden or bloom will present itself. The beauty is in that unexpectedness, which is reflected in the final outcome of this particular piece of art.

16” x 20” acrylic and ink on watercolor paper

18” x 22” acrylic and spray paint on watercolor paper

Thinking this phrase had never been uttered (I’ve realized since then that it had indeed been coined), I found myself surrounded by close friends, enjoying a few cocktails and more than a few laughs (or was it the other way around)? I looked up, and in practicing being more mindful and present, slowed down my surroundings and took a deep breath. And in this breath, the past and the future became a distant idea, and I realized that these moments- this moment- were moments we’d look back on with fondness. That we were living a moment of love, life and celebration, that someday would become “the good ol’ days”. This poster - and a few derivations of it - was born. THESE ARE the good ol’ days.

In this piece, layers of the traditional “those were the good ol days” letters and paint elements give way to a final layer, where an “E” and “A” convert a phrase rooted in the past, to that which becomes rooted in the present.