Does this make me a monster!? As the story goes, when you break a cup, you glue it back with gold, celebrating each crack. This work explores the idea that our imperfections turn into the best parts of who we are. It is created with broken stained glass and other mixed media.

Walking along the edge of Lake Hefner, I experienced the spectacular golden hour firsthand. I sat on a bench and settled in to watch the water glow. As the sun descended toward the horizon, the sky and everything surrounding the lake warmed up—the grass, the restaurants, the lighthouse. Even the flowers showed off their transparent petals in the sun. This golden hour, spent watching the sailboats come in from their late summer cruise across the glowing water, was spectacular and full of charm and romance.

Angels walk among us.
At the meeting place of deepest darkness and brightest light, we discover the truth of our souls. Faith carries us through the unknown and leads us back to ourselves. Darkness creates stillness—the rhythm falters, the breath suspended in silence. Compassion becomes our refuge. Through prayer, light returns to guide us onward, and at last, our voices rise again.

From summer love to inferno. This work invites the viewer to add their own narrative. Is it thoughts of long-lost romance, bits of nostalgia, secrets kept tucked away—or maybe something else entirely?

Drifting, descending—the wind murmurs and stirs,
At each footfall,
The forest exhales around us.

Summer of 2023, but it could have been 1978, or 1968... The love of riding through Yellowstone national park has been around for decades. I'm sure today is much more crowded with the non stop whir of traffic, but the thrill of the curves, the delight of the buffalo along side the road, the hope of seeing a bear, the awestruck feeling from looking out over the mountains, the rush you get, trying to out ride the storms you see heading your way... these are as old as the land itself.. well, at least it has been around for as long as bikes have been. 

Watching a great blue heron lift off from the pond is almost a struggle—awkward, unsteady, big and bulky. Yet somehow, this bird takes flight, often skimming the water with its wing tips. It starts wobbly but reaches a beautiful grace as it glides above the water.

Like in life, I ask: Is takeoff a struggle or easy? When you catch a current, do you glide gracefully? Do you jump off quickly and then regain control of your direction?

This collection reflects on a mid-season flight—are we there yet? Have we done the things we're compelled to do in life? Are we still awkward, or have we found grace? I use mark making, color, and texture to create movement, peace, tension, and direction.

I created this collection while listening to old favorites like "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." Feeling nostalgic, I aimed to capture the upbeat, fiery sounds of the fiddle in southern rock country and contrast them with the smooth, subtle movements of Johannes Brahms' symphonies. I added drips and drops of ink to create texture and evoke the feel of sound. These artworks explore abstract realism.