
I make things to figure out what the hell is going on inside my head.
Seven originals, at the sizes they really are. Lean in and a painting gives you its name. Open it and you get the underpainting, the ruined first pass, the corner nobody sees.
Three creatures that lived only in a sketchbook until I gave them weight, a jaw, and a human head to sit on.
Thirty-one prompts. Twenty-two cards. I left it unfinished and I’ve decided that’s the piece — proof that I was there for most of it.
Started on the first of January 2023, the year everything moved. One page for every thought I wanted to survive — a tiny book I’m still writing my way through.still open · unfinished on purpose
Projects that ended, stalled, or turned into something else. Nothing here has an active home, so it all lives in one box together. Pick a thing up and it tells you what it was.