Original large-scale paintings for the walls your guests remember.

The rough texture and darkness represent the things we carry beneath the surface. Old hurt, baggage, parts of ourselves we find difficult to face. Things that can shape how we think and act without us noticing.

The light represents the moment we begin to see them. When we can observe a thought, question a familiar reaction, and choose a different response.

I left the roughness visible. You don’t have to have everything resolved to change course.

For me, that’s the hope in this painting. There’s a way through.

This piece reflects the quiet emptiness that can arrive after reaching a goal once thought to hold all the answers. It speaks to recurring patterns, the shadow self, and the search for meaning beyond achievement. I really love the shadows that the textured broken circle casts.

Dust begins in a place that feels heavy and difficult to leave. Its dark, swampy layers carry the pull of vice and hedonism, the point where pleasure becomes something that holds you.

Above, the surface opens into a pale haze. I see the two small black marks as traces of myself rising out of that weight, suspended like dust.

The escape is fragile. There is freedom in that moment of suspension, with the pull of the depths still present. Dust can lift, drift and settle again.

The rough green surface feels rooted in the earth. The pale field above opens into sky. A black mark descends with the sharpness of a blade. Lower down, a raised scar carries a thin red drip, bringing something bodily and vulnerable into the painting.

For me, the work holds two kinds of opposites together: earth and sky, violence and calm. The wound draws the eye, surrounded by space and stillness.

I see a kind of unity in that coexistence. The wound, the earth and the open sky all belong to the same whole.