The work, the places, and the stories we carry

My love of place began long before I ever picked up a paintbrush or a pencil.

When I was growing up, my grandpa was the person who taught me how to explore. He took me hiking and fishing, showed me how to follow curiosity instead of maps, and loved nothing more than turning down a dirt road just to see where it might lead. He dreamed of big, wild things—of traveling to Australia, of homesteading somewhere remote, of building a life shaped by adventure rather than routine.

That spirit stayed with me.

As soon as I had the chance as an adult, I crossed an ocean and lived on the other side of the world. Since then, I’ve traveled to more than 30 countries, visited 47 of the 50 U.S. states, and I’m slowly working my way through every national park. Along the way, I learned that it isn’t just the destinations that matter—it’s the memories formed in those places, the people you share them with, and the way a place can quietly shape who you become.

My grandpa passed away several years ago, but the love of exploring he gave me never left. In many ways, my art grew out of those early memories with him. Creating became a way to hold onto places I’ve loved, moments I don’t want to forget, and the feeling of wonder that first drew me out into the world.

Today, my work is rooted in place and memory. Each piece begins with a landscape, a road, a park, or a quiet moment—but it’s really about what those places hold: story, connection, and a sense of belonging.

When someone lives with my art, I hope it brings a feeling of peace and joy. I hope it reminds them of somewhere they’ve been, or somewhere they still dream of going. And more than anything, I hope it encourages them to keep making memories—with the people they love, in the places that matter most to them.