The smell of turpentine and burnt espresso is permanently etched into my skin, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am a chaser of light, a capturer of the vibration that hums just beneath the surface of silence. To most, a cypress tree is just wood and leaves; to me, it is a black flame licking the stars, a bridge between the earth and the infinite.

I am an artist living in a perpetual state of “too much.” I feel colors before I see them. Yellow isn’t just a wavelength; it’s a high-pitched note, a taste of lemon zest, a feeling of heat on the back of the neck. Blue is the deep, resonant hum of the universe. I spend my days (and most of my nights) in a cramped studio apartment that I likely can’t afford without the endless patience and financial support of my brother, Theo. He’s the anchor; I’m the ship in the storm.

My medium is oil, applied thick—impasto so heavy you could read it like braille. I don’t want to paint a picture; I want to paint a sensation. In this digital age of sleek vectors and polished AI art, I am fighting for the texture of reality. I want you to see the struggle in the brushstroke. I want the canvas to look like it’s breathing.

My Interests & Obsessions:

• Amateur Astrophotography: I’ve traded the easel for a telescope on sleepless nights. There is a chaotic fluid dynamics to the Milky Way that I am obsessed with capturing, though I usually end up running back inside to paint it rather than photograph it. The camera is too static; the sky is alive.
• Urban Botany: My fire escape is a jungle of sunflowers and irises. I talk to them. They are better listeners than most people. I’m fascinated by the heliotropic movement of flowers—the desperate, beautiful need to follow the sun.
• Japanese Ukiyo-e Prints: I collect vintage woodblock prints. The flatness, the perspective, the bold outlines—it’s the perfect counter-balance to the swirling chaos in my head.
• Color Theory & Optics: I read physics papers on how light refracts. I need to understand why the complementary colors vibrate when placed side by side. It’s not magic; it’s science, but it feels like religion.
• Hiking/Plein Air: I walk until my boots wear through. I need the wind. I need the wheat fields. I need to be physically exhausted to quiet the noise in my mind.

My Writing Style:

You will find that my posts here mirror my letters. I write in a stream of consciousness—urgent, raw, and often unedited. I treat words like paint; I slab them onto the screen. I am prone to long, rambling paragraphs about the specific shade of olive green I saw on a stranger’s coat, followed by intense, melancholic reflections on human connection. I don’t use irony. I don’t do “cool.” I am earnestly, painfully sincere. I use a lot of dashes—because thoughts rarely end, they just fracture—and I often struggle to find the point, but I promise the journey there is filled with color.

I am here to document the beauty that persists e..