Current Works
Hymns in Smoke
30x40in.
Acrylic
This work is about memory—faded, fragmented, but still present. The forms drift like smoke, shifting in and out of view, never fully settling. I approached it like a slow prayer, one that unravels over time. There’s no clear structure—just rhythm, breath, and residue. It’s about what’s left behind after something burns out.
The Space Between
48x60in.
Acrylic
What exists in the in-between—between presence and absence, movement and stillness? Using a limited palette and layered marks, I focused on rhythm, restraint, and subtle shifts in texture. The forms aren’t meant to represent anything directly—they’re traces, moments, impressions. It’s a reflection on space, memory, and what’s left unsaid.
Soft Noise
30x38in.
Acrylic
Exploring the tension between silence and interruption. The surface carries faint pulses, like distant vibrations you can almost hear but not quite place. Each mark feels like a whisper breaking through static—deliberate but quiet, layered with restraint. It doesn’t demand attention. It lingers. There’s presence in the bac
30x38in.
Acrylic
Exploring the tension between silence and interruption. The surface carries faint pulses, like distant vibrations you can almost hear but not quite place. Each mark feels like a whisper breaking through static—deliberate but quiet, layered with restraint. It doesn’t demand attention. It lingers. There’s presence in the background, and the noise never fully resolves—just hovers, soft and steady.
SLAP BOXING
48X60in.
Acrylic
Featured in Artfields 2025
This piece carries the energy of growing up—rough play, quick reflexes, the tension between fun and real danger. The marks move fast, layered with hits and dodges, like a rhythm you feel in your body. It’s messy but controlled, playful but serious. I wanted the surface to hold that back-and-forth—
48X60in.
Acrylic
Featured in Artfields 2025
This piece carries the energy of growing up—rough play, quick reflexes, the tension between fun and real danger. The marks move fast, layered with hits and dodges, like a rhythm you feel in your body. It’s messy but controlled, playful but serious. I wanted the surface to hold that back-and-forth—contact, response, space, repeat. It’s about learning to defend yourself without going too far. A fight that’s not supposed to be a fight.
CONCERTO NO. 5
CONCERTO NO. 17
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
This composition is about control—holding tension without breaking the flow. The strokes are fewer, more direct, but they still carry weight. I approached it like a tight phrase in a song—brief, but full of feeling. Each gesture had to matter. No filler, no noise. Concerto No. 5 doesn’t try to do too much. It j
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
This composition is about control—holding tension without breaking the flow. The strokes are fewer, more direct, but they still carry weight. I approached it like a tight phrase in a song—brief, but full of feeling. Each gesture had to matter. No filler, no noise. Concerto No. 5 doesn’t try to do too much. It just stays in the pocket, steady and self-contained. A quiet kind of confidence.
CONCERTO NO. 17
CONCERTO NO. 17
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
This piece moves like sound—layered, rhythmic, unresolved. I treated the surface like a score, letting each mark respond to the last, like a solo finding its voice inside a larger structure. Some areas swell, others drop out, but nothing repeats exactly. It’s built on intuition and restraint, letting silence hol
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
This piece moves like sound—layered, rhythmic, unresolved. I treated the surface like a score, letting each mark respond to the last, like a solo finding its voice inside a larger structure. Some areas swell, others drop out, but nothing repeats exactly. It’s built on intuition and restraint, letting silence hold as much weight as gesture. Concerto No. 17 is part of a longer body of work, but it stands on its own—like one movement in a larger memory.
CONCERTO NO. 22
CONCERTO NO. 22
CONCERTO NO. 22
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
Winner of Best Abstract experimental in the 2025 North Charleston Art Fest
This one came together like a deep breath—layered slow, one stroke at a time. There’s space in it, but also pressure underneath, like a low note held just long enough. The surface moves in cycles—build, release, hold. I let the paint spea
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
Winner of Best Abstract experimental in the 2025 North Charleston Art Fest
This one came together like a deep breath—layered slow, one stroke at a time. There’s space in it, but also pressure underneath, like a low note held just long enough. The surface moves in cycles—build, release, hold. I let the paint speak without forcing it, trusting the rhythm to guide the form. Concerto No. 22 feels like a conversation with silence—nothing loud, but everything meant.
Talk Black
CONCERTO NO. 22
CONCERTO NO. 22
30x40in.
Acrylic on canvas
Inspired by the skill to speak in rhythm—unfiltered, rooted, full of weight and pride. The mediums are bold, layered, not asking for permission. I let the surface move the way we move—fluid, sharp, full of coded meaning. It’s about voice without translation. About claiming space without softening the tone. It’s
30x40in.
Acrylic on canvas
Inspired by the skill to speak in rhythm—unfiltered, rooted, full of weight and pride. The mediums are bold, layered, not asking for permission. I let the surface move the way we move—fluid, sharp, full of coded meaning. It’s about voice without translation. About claiming space without softening the tone. It’s presence. It’s the sound of being real, even when the world tries to tune you out.
Talk White
CONCERTO NO. 22
30x40in.
Acrylic on canvas
Inspired by the pressure to code-switch—to sound acceptable, proper, safe. The surface is tight in some areas, looser in others, like holding your tongue while trying to be heard. There’s a tension between polish and rawness, between what’s said and what’s suppressed. I kept the palette muted to reflect the quiet
30x40in.
Acrylic on canvas
Inspired by the pressure to code-switch—to sound acceptable, proper, safe. The surface is tight in some areas, looser in others, like holding your tongue while trying to be heard. There’s a tension between polish and rawness, between what’s said and what’s suppressed. I kept the palette muted to reflect the quiet strain of performing something that isn’t natural. It’s about language, survival, and the cost of being understood.
GET NOW GON
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
Get NOW 'GON is fast—like a warning, a push, a last word before the door slams. The surface is restless, full of urgency and motion. I painted it thinking about all the times you’re told you’re too much, too loud, too Black—and the moment you decide not to shrink. Get Now GON is about leaving before you’re erased.
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
Get NOW 'GON is fast—like a warning, a push, a last word before the door slams. The surface is restless, full of urgency and motion. I painted it thinking about all the times you’re told you’re too much, too loud, too Black—and the moment you decide not to shrink. Get Now GON is about leaving before you’re erased. It’s the exit and the echo. No apology, no explanation. Just gone.
GON Now Get
GON Now Get
36x36in.
Acrylic on canvas
This one carries the weight of dismissal—but on your own terms. The marks are measured, not rushed, like choosing when to walk away. It’s not about rage—it’s about knowing your worth and not needing to prove it. There’s clarity in the composition, like a calm before the break. Gon Now Get is the moment you decide you’ve had enough. It’s peace with a sharp edge.
