Acrylic and oil pastels on canvas, 11 × 14 in., 2026
Not everyone finds their quiet in quiet places. Some people breathe easier with a skyline in front of them — the hum of a thousand conversations they'll never hear, languages layering over each other, strangers making something beautiful in every direction.
Someone once told me they couldn't believe a city could inspire me. But there's a moment right before the sun drops behind the bridge when everything turns gold and the whole place softens, and it's hard to imagine being anywhere else. Some of us just feel less alone surrounded by all that life.
Acrylic and oil pastels on canvas, 11 × 14 in., 2026
Not everyone finds their quiet in quiet places. Some people breathe easier with a skyline in front of them — the hum of a thousand conversations they'll never hear, languages layering over each other, strangers making something beautiful in every direction.
Someone once told me they couldn't believe a city could inspire me. But there's a moment right before the sun drops behind the bridge when everything turns gold and the whole place softens, and it's hard to imagine being anywhere else. Some of us just feel less alone surrounded by all that life.
