Picture this: you're sitting in a small café. There’s a picture on the wall—pleasing colors, easy to look at. You think, I could live with that.

That was me, eighteen years ago. I said I liked the painting. My friend frowned. “It’s not handmade,” he said. “It’s mass-produced.”

I remember blinking, confused. The colors were nice. And at that point in my life—fresh out of college, scraping by on a just-barely adult budget—I was still hanging mass-market café prints in my apartment. I thought he was being pretentious.

It was a short, forgettable conversation. Except I never forgot it.

Fast-forward to a few weeks ago: I’m walking through a hobby and home goods store for studio supplies. I pass the art aisle out of habit. The prints are colorful. Some even have a textured glue coating to mimic paint.

But none of them stopped me. None made me feel anything. None of them came close to the weight and presence of a real, handmade painting.

That memory hit hard.

There’s a reason handmade art makes you pause. It's the same reason being outside in the landscape around you is so fresh and compelling to look at.

It carries the mark of the maker.

Real life. Real brushstrokes. Real texture. Real presence. Real people.

Mass-produced prints follow trends: popular textures, this year’s color forecast. Handmade work tells the truth. It isn’t made to match a couch; it’s made to speak. And when that story lives on paper—when you can feel it in the surface and see it catch the light—it doesn’t just hang on your wall. It stays with you.

I create original paintings to hold the weight of faith, thought, and conviction. From bold strokes to delicate details, this isn’t art you scroll past. It’s art that stops you. Art that stays.

You feel it when you walk by. You feel the pull to get closer. You remember what matters when you sit with it. You anchor your space in truth, not trends.

That’s why handmade art is worth collecting. Not because it’s rare—though it is. But because it’s real. It carries heart. It reflects your values. And it was made by someone who believed beauty is worth putting your hands to.

That same conviction is what’s guiding me in the studio right now.

This week I’ve been exploring pen and ink sketches. It’s not my main medium, but I respect what it demands. Each line asks you to slow down, commit, and see with sharper eyes.

I’ve been watching Sarah Burns Studio while walking on the treadmill. Her ink work—especially with the Pilot parallel pen—pushed me to try something new. I’ve loaded up two of my fountain pens with a custom soft turquoise ink, and I keep reaching for them. This is my favorite ink yet.

And just like those sketches, every piece in the Pathways Collection was built with that same clarity of purpose.

When you bring a piece into your home, you’re not just decorating—you’re collecting with intention. You're choosing presence over trend. Story over style.

If a piece is already calling to you, make it yours. Originals from the Pathways Collection are available now. Each one carries story, intention, and presence, and they won’t be restocked.

When they’re gone, they’re gone.

Find your original here.

What piece in your life has stayed with you the longest—not because it matched your space, but because it meant something?

Drop me a note. I’d love to hear the story.