American Yin Yang

Acrylic
11” x 14”
May 2019

Traditionally, yin and yang describe a dance of complementary forces—dynamic balance forming a whole greater than the parts. But in America, the dance has turned into a brawl. Red and Blue don’t flex with one another—they flex against. Mirror opposites, each accusing the other of being the problem, while refusing to see the symmetry in their tactics. Two self-righteous strongarms locked in a death grip. Two dictators vying for dominance. A stalemate where balance would mean losing—and if they both lose, we might all stand a chance at winning. This piece can hang either way. Top, bottom, left, right—does it matter? Or are we just stuck in a tug-of-war we mistake for truth?

Kintsugi Among Us

Laser print collage on foam core, matte varnish, clear acrylic mediums, gold leaf
32” x 40”
February 2019

Every voice. Every fight. Every cause. Every face. All cracked, all collaged.

This piece began with black-and-white snapshots of American protest—no issue left out. The fractures run deep, but they aren’t hidden. They shimmer with gold leaf, inspired by kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. Not to erase the damage—but to honor it. What if our healing isn’t in erasing differences, but in owning the breaks?
What if the glue isn’t ideology, but humility?
What if the beauty isn’t in the sign we hold, but in the hand that dares to reach across?

The gold doesn’t hide the damage. It redeems it.

Systemic Exploitation

Soft pastel
12” x 16”
June 2020

Outside, the world screams: "Be outraged. Be ashamed. Be dismantled."
Inside, a girl imagines light. Peace. Color. Her own thoughts. Her own truth. This is a portrait of defiance—not the loud, reactive kind. The quiet, centered kind. The kind that refuses to monetize pain or weaponize shame. Some build platforms on trauma and call it righteousness. They invoice healing as a product. But healing doesn’t come from performance. It comes from rootedness. From knowing your worth isn’t contingent on appeasing power or joining the outrage chorus.

Be grounded. Be clear. Be compassionate without being manipulated. And if someone asks how you got that peace—answer freely. No invoice attached.

How far that little candle throws its beams

Oil pastel with pocket knife
12” x 12”
January 2020

This wasn’t meant to be a tribute. It started as a scribble. A swirl of color. But it became a memory—of sky lanterns rising over Green Lake, in honor of Casey. A light against the night. The title is Shakespeare’s, but in the next line, the meaning is ours: “So shines a good deed in a weary world.” Casey’s life was the good deed. Not perfect, but bright. The light that burned in him burns in all of us. The tragedy is forgetting. Depression, injustice, sorrow—so many things try to smother the flame. But never underestimate it. Even a flicker can pierce the dark.
The world needs your light. Especially when you can’t see it yourself.

Into the Fog

Oil on canvas
48” x 24”
2014

At first, there was nothing. Just fog. Silence. No edge, no shape, no sound.

But then—impossible colors. A radiant hush. The presence of God in the middle of the void, showing off with absurd beauty.

I heard it then, not audibly, but undeniably: “You talk a big game, but you don’t follow.”
Oof. Truth like a slap. But also a calling. That moment was the beginning of my "yes". The beginning of following, not just talking.

This painting waited four years for me to be ready. It still feels outrageous. Holy. Like a secret I’m finally letting you in on.
Not because you’ll believe it.
But because I saw it.
And I followed.