ABOUT

Like a lot of kids growing up in the 1990s, my life looked pretty different from what it is now. I was raised in the Chesapeake and Norfolk before eventually landing just outside Washington, D.C.

As a teenager, I was drawn to the subway — not just the motion of the city but the graffiti that lit up the walls like an unofficial gallery. My mom, an art teacher, introduced me to art history early on and taught me to appreciate all forms of creative expression. She was constantly involved in community art groups while also attending college, and I was usually by her side. I got to tag along for things like setting up installations and even pulling lithographs — not your average childhood, but one that stuck with me.

 

My work blends street aesthetics with natural elements, exploring the friction between decay and beauty. I’m drawn to abandoned places — old gas stations, forgotten walls, and cracked sidewalks overtaken by desert flora. The distressed landscapes of Arizona, the graffiti-lined alleys of Roosevelt Row, and the weird quiet of places like the Salton Sea. I’m not chasing perfection — I’m looking for tension, contrast, and what gets left behind.

Each piece is layered with symbols, spray paint, and found textures — a mix of memory, culture, and intuition. I approach art the same way I approached it as a kid: with curiosity and the need to say something without words.

I’m currently showing with Angry Pirate Gallery and preparing for a series of exhibitions and show submissions throughout the year. The work is evolving, the path isn’t always clean, but that’s what keeps it honest.