What I Hope You Feel When You See My Work

When someone brings one of my paintings into their home, I hope something shifts. Not just the way the wall looks, but the way the room feels. I want art to turn walls into windows, sometimes windows that open out into the wide prairie sky, and sometimes windows that turn inward, reminding you who you are and what matters most.

More than anything, I want my work to bring depth and grounding into your space.

For some collectors, that looks like peace, the exhale they didn’t know they needed. For others, it’s curiosity, a spark that makes them lean closer. For others still, it’s boldness, a reminder to take up space unapologetically. Every person comes with their own story already churning inside, and the painting meets them where they are.

One of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received from a collector is that my paintings make them feel like they’re standing inside the scene. That’s the moment I paint for, when you can pause, step into the landscape, and ground yourself there for a while. Because you deserve that stillness, that presence.

I hold myself to the same standard. After finishing a painting, I’ll let it sit on my easel for a few days, then hang it on my wall. I test it. How does it feel to live with it? Do I feel obsessed with the colors, pulled into the horizon, more rooted in my own presence? Or does it leave me wandering, unfocused? The answer tells me not just about the painting, but about where I am in my own healing and journey.

That’s what I wish for every collector, too, that my art isn’t just something you look at, but something that keeps you company. Something that helps you remember you belong right here, right now.

If I could send one message to everyone who stands in front of my work, it would be this: may this piece remind you of your presence in the world, show you your power, and will you to take up space, because you are ready and worth it, in this very moment.