
Most recent works are smallish, 9x12, 11x14, 12"x16" And many are Plein Air,and all are about color and sense of place.

To stand outdoors in natural beauty is impressive. To not be moved by the immensity and power, impossible. To wonder at the many who once were at this exact spot, inevitable. The lines can tell us definition and destination. And sometimes narrative.

I paint Texas landscapes because this land carries an immense, quiet power. The sky country stretches out in every direction, so vast it feels like it could hold every thought, every memory. The golden light—especially in the Hill Country—moves across the land like something sacred, softening everything it touches and revealing the beauty in even the simplest places.

Painting shorelines and water marshes feels like entering a world that is always shifting, always alive. The quiet rhythm of water against grass, the way light gathers on still surfaces, and the slow drift of clouds reflected in tidal flats all invite a deeper kind of attention. Out there, the boundary between land and water is never fixed—it breathes, glimmers, and rearranges itself with every change of tide or breeze.

When I paint scenes from above, I try to capture the quiet miracle of flight—the way the world unfolds in broad, gentle patterns that only make sense from the sky. The lines give us perspective and direction. Flight isn’t about speed or altitude; it’s about stillness, perspective, and wonder.

Painting is a kind of conversation—between me and the world, between color and silence, between what I see and what I feel. Each stroke becomes a record of presence: I was here. I noticed this. It moved me. There are interior scenes, missions and outdoor scenes. Painting is a form of gratitude. Creating art is my way of saying: this mattered. It still does.
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