The poet Rumi said, “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.”

Making art is hard, terrifying, and lonely, but making art is also absolutely necessary. It is through the art-making process that I am best able to hear the secrets at dawn, and resist the desire to go back to sleep.

When I am actively making art—not just the time in my studio but the entire time I am actively considering potential works—I am more present and sensitive to my surroundings. The rich, but sometimes problematic, world of my inner thoughts begins to align with my external experience, and they dance playfully between the real and the imagined. Making art forces me to be open to the world, open to what I am experiencing and seeing, but more terrifyingly, I myself must also be open to sharing those experiences through my art.

I have no singular grand mission statement about what my art is or why it matters. I am just a painter, interpreting and reacting to what I see and what I believe is worthy of documentation and perhaps a little consideration. I believe that artwork without a viewer is just a passing thought the artist had. The viewer makes the thought real, and through their interpretation, the work becomes a conversation—and thus, you, my dear viewer, are also an essential part of the work.