I make art because I’m curious.

I rarely know exactly where a painting is going when I begin. I might start with a color, shape, memory, landscape, or something ordinary that caught my attention. Then I follow it, change it, cover things up, bring things back, and see where it takes me.

After spending much of my career as a designer looking for clarity and solutions, painting taught me something different: not knowing can be a pretty interesting place to start.

Probably more than I realize.

I spent nearly three decades working in design, so composition, color, hierarchy, rhythm, positive and negative space are naturally part of how I see.

But painting gives me permission to loosen all of that.

I like the tension between structure and play—knowing enough to make intentional choices, but leaving enough room for accidents, awkwardness, and surprise.

Enough structure to hold things together. Enough room to discover something new.

Almost anything.

A landscape from a road trip. Food. A memory. An ordinary object. A color combination. A scrap of paper on my table.

I’m especially interested in putting things together that don’t obviously belong together and seeing what happens.

Some paintings begin to suggest a place or story. Others stay completely abstract. I like leaving enough room that you can find something in them that I never intended.

Your story doesn’t have to be the same as mine.

I hope the work keeps giving you something.

Maybe you notice a shape you hadn’t seen before. A color reminds you of somewhere you’ve been. You invent a completely different story for it. Or maybe it simply makes you happy when you walk past it in the morning.

I don’t need you to see what I see.

Once a painting leaves my studio, part of the fun is that it starts becoming yours.

I don’t teach people how to paint like me.

I’m much more interested in helping artists notice what is already theirs—the colors they keep reaching for, the marks they naturally make, the stories they return to, and the things they’re curious enough to keep exploring.

We use design principles, experimentation, play, and a lot of making to develop a visual language that feels personal rather than prescribed.

The goal isn’t to finally find your style and stay there.

It’s to build enough trust in yourself that your work can keep evolving with you.

Artists who are curious, making work, and wondering what’s next.

You might be trying to develop your voice, loosen up, move beyond copying what inspires you, reconnect with your practice, or simply make work that feels more like you.

You don’t need to have everything figured out.

Actually, that’s kind of the point.

See workshops · Explore Spice

Absolutely. My studio is in Seattle’s Pioneer Square. You can visit during open studio events or contact me to arrange an appointment.

I’m always happy to show you the work, talk about what I’m making, and help you find something that feels right for your space.

Studio & gallery details

Yes. I take on a limited number of commissions.

I don’t try to reproduce an existing painting exactly. Instead, we’ll talk about the work you’re drawn to, your space, scale, color, and what you respond to—and I’ll create something new from there.

It should still have room to surprise both of us.

Ask about a commission

Keep original artwork away from prolonged direct sunlight and extreme humidity. If you’re unsure about placement, framing, or caring for a particular piece, just ask. I’m happy to help.

You can follow along on social media, join my email list, or stop by the studio.

I share finished work, experiments, things I’m learning, workshops, exhibitions—and plenty of things that may or may not turn into anything.

That’s part of the journey.

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