Kentucky Roots, Southern Light
Ever since I was about three, I wanted to be an artist. Crayola crayons and a lined sketchpad were constant purchases for mom and dad at the Terry Office Supply. It was next door to the bank where Mom worked. I hung out there for hours after school looking at the art supplies and the Walter Foster "How to Draw" series books.
My father coached football at Paintsville High School for 44 years. Coached my brother and me. My mother was an administrative assistant at a bank. They always commended me for my artistic talent, but in my family, there was no frame of reference for art apprenticeships or special courses. (Not a lot of options back then for online courses! Al Gore hadn't even perfected the World Wide Web yet. That would come 20 years later. Sorry Tim Berners-Lee; that probably came as a shock to you!)
I accepted a scholarship that offered football and an art program at the same school, Morehead State University. The program was strong, and some standout professors included Dixon Ferrell, Doug Adams and Robert Franzini. I took some fine art classes along the way, but in hindsight, not nearly enough, and I never made fine art my major, to my regret. I ended up graduating with a commercial art degree.
After college I took a newspaper paste-up job to start making money. South Bend. Cincinnati. Biloxi. Still in newspapers. I expanded into Infographics, locator maps, the occasional watercolor and oil pastel drawings. Won some awards. An international one.
Moved up the ladder to Graphics editor. Art director. More awards on the wall. But little artistic satisfaction.
Then in 2000, I pivoted and took a job at an advertising agency in Mobile, Alabama. To live closer to family. Painted a bit, but not anything steady. Still not my own art.
My wife and I always agreed that creating and selling my art would be our ultimate goal. Sadly, she would never see that come to pass. She passed away in 2021. I moved to Baton Rouge the following year.
Decades' worth of art business on the back burner.
That was the mistake. I'm not 24 anymore.
The back burner is turned off. The front burner is on high. It's way past time.
It's time to paint what's been stuck in my head for fifty plus years. The beauty of animals, sunsets, landscapes, seascapes, Yahweh's creation. All on the front burner now. It's just a matter of which one to paint or draw next. I can't wait to find out.
PhilosophyOne Artist, Many Worlds
I work in oil, graphite, colored pencil, pen and ink, and watercolor. My subjects range from shrimp boats and steam trains to big cats, horses, and Great Blue Herons. I paint the Gulf Coast and the Appalachian mountains with equal affection.
Most artists build a signature style and stick with it. I've gone the other direction. I believe the most dangerous thing that can happen to an artist is to become predictable. Sticking to one style is the end of creativity. It stifles the fundamental need for experimentation. I'd rather follow curiosity than perfect a formula.
The thread that connects everything isn't a technique or a look. It's a feeling: the quiet attention you give something when light falls on it just right, and you realize you're seeing something worth holding onto. That's what I'm trying to put on canvas. Every time.
Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
— Philippians 4:8
Faith & MissionEvery Mark an Act of Worship
My faith in Yahweh is the foundation of everything I create. I don't paint religious subjects exclusively. I paint the beauty of His creation. A heron standing in still water. Morning light on a bayou. The way a cat curls up in a sunbeam. Every brush stroke is an act of gratitude for a world He made worth seeing.
My mission is simple: to inspire joy. Loss can bring sorrow and fear, yet peace, love, and joy thrive when we stop and cherish moments of happiness. Life is short. Embrace your joy.