Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Acrylic, oil pastels, and ink on canvas, 18 × 24 in., 2026
Some mornings start before the sun's fully up — boards tucked under an arm, feet in the cold sand, paddling out into water that's still more grey than blue. This one's for the kind of person who lives for that hour: dawn patrol with friends, hang ten, the wait for a wave worth catching, palm trees standing guard from the shore.
There's a kind of aliveness in that combination — pure adrenaline that somehow also feels like rest. I wanted this piece to hold both at once, the same way a single summer morning can.
Maybe you've chased that same pull, in whatever shape your summer took
Acrylic, oil pastels, and ink on canvas, 18 × 24 in., 2026
Some mornings start before the sun's fully up — boards tucked under an arm, feet in the cold sand, paddling out into water that's still more grey than blue. This one's for the kind of person who lives for that hour: dawn patrol with friends, hang ten, the wait for a wave worth catching, palm trees standing guard from the shore.
There's a kind of aliveness in that combination — pure adrenaline that somehow also feels like rest. I wanted this piece to hold both at once, the same way a single summer morning can.
Maybe you've chased that same pull, in whatever shape your summer took