I want truth, as best I can get it, as best I can give it, always. I learned to draw because my family draws. I learned it because I loved the feeling of the pencil or pen in my hand. I also learned it because I love to look for, capture, and preserve what is true. Ultimately, everything I draw or write will be a flawed paper copy of the world I interact with, and that is frustrating, beautiful, and okay, I guess. I can only see so much.

pearl crescent butterflies, bees and flies pollinating white heath aster on a September afternoon Poem: I think it’s okay to call it...

The summer in September is the last cold sip of your party drink, the last taste on your lips as the sun dips under the twinkle lights,...

Butterflies have captured my heart and imagination. They seem like living hope to me, reminders of beauty’s transcendent, eternal nature...

farmer’s market flower stand overflow, garden gifts — jewels. art leads to art in a twilit home. Zinnia, dahlia and lisianthus blossoms...