Sometimes a Painting Takes Years

Some paintings are finished in a weekend.

Others take years.

This one started immediately after Hurricane Ian.

Like everyone else in Southwest Florida, I was dealing with the aftermath. The power had finally come back on, and I needed an outlet more than I needed a plan. I drove to Hobby Lobby, bought a large canvas, brought it back to the studio, and started painting.

I wasn’t trying to create a masterpiece. I just needed somewhere to put everything I was feeling.

At the time, I set up two cameras and recorded the process. Then I completely forgot about the footage.

Years later, while digging through old Hurricane Ian videos, I stumbled across those recordings. It felt like one of those strange little synchronicities—the universe reminding me that everything has a way of coming back around when it’s supposed to.

Life Gets in the Way

I worked on the painting for a couple of months before participating in our popup event, A Place to Create. After that, the painting sat untouched.

Then life happened.

I broke my back.

Recovery lasted about six months, and I couldn’t paint. I couldn’t even make the left-to-right motions needed to work on a canvas. Instead, I taught myself Blender and started learning 3D modeling. It kept my mind busy while my body healed.

The painting never left the room.

It sat directly behind my computer monitors, so I spent months staring at it every single day. It became less of a painting and more of a reminder of something I couldn’t finish.

Eventually, I recovered enough to pick up a brush again. I’d add a little here, a little there, and occasionally submit it to exhibitions.

It never got accepted.

Looking back, that was okay.

It wasn’t finished yet.

Paint What You Want to See

I’ve always promised myself that while I’ll absolutely pursue opportunities like Art Basel, Ripley’s, and other exhibitions, I won’t abandon the work that genuinely excites me.

I paint the weird stuff.

The paintings that make me curious.

The paintings I’d want hanging on my own wall.

Maybe that makes me a selfish painter, but I’m fortunate enough to have a day job. I’m not depending on my artwork to pay the bills, and that freedom allows me to explore without worrying whether something fits neatly into a market or a niche.

I see a lot of artists feeling pressure to stay inside one lane because that’s what sells.

There’s nothing wrong with mastering a niche.

But I also think growth often happens when you’re willing to step outside of it.

Sometimes You Just Need a Different Tool

A conversation at the studio recently reminded me of that.

Someone told me they don’t really paint because they have ADHD and don’t draw much either.

I asked them how they hold a pencil.

They demonstrated the familiar “death grip.”

I laughed because I used to do exactly the same thing.

Then one day I held a paintbrush the way my art teacher showed me.

Everything changed.

Painting wasn’t drawing anymore.

It became movement instead of precision.

Because I have double-jointed fingers, drawing can actually be uncomfortable for me. These days, I rarely sketch on paper.

My sketchbooks are canvas boards.

I practice directly in paint.

Many finished paintings actually grow out of what started as practice pieces.

Finally Finishing the Journey

To my surprise, this painting was selected for the Alliance for the Arts’ Prospective Show.

Suddenly, I had a problem.

I actually had to finish it.

That meant revisiting years of memories, unfinished ideas, Hurricane Ian, recovery from my back injury, and everything that had happened in between.

In a strange way, finishing the painting became part of finishing that chapter of my life.

The response to the piece has been incredibly encouraging.

People seem to genuinely connect with it, and that means a lot.

Growing Without Really Knowing How

The last couple of years have been strange.

My technical ability has improved faster than I ever expected.

People ask me questions about my process or how I developed certain skills, and honestly…

I don’t always know.

I just show up.

I make the work.

I’m figuring it out as I go, just like everyone else.

Sometimes I joke that I “just work here.”

And maybe that’s the truth.

Time to Move Forward

I’ve spent years talking about this painting.

I’ve explained the pareidolia, the symbolism, the process, and the story behind it more times than I can count.

I’m grateful that people care enough to ask.

But I’m also ready for the next painting.

Every finished piece closes one chapter so another one can begin.

Thank you to everyone who has followed the journey, encouraged me along the way, and supported the work.

As always…

Be the best you that you can be.

Take it easy.