Inside My Studio

There’s something magical about walking into an artist’s studio—it’s like stepping into a world where colors, textures, and ideas collide. My own studio is no exception. Some people see jars of brushes, trays of watercolor, seashells scattered across the table, and tiny bottles of shimmering gold leaf. But for me, it’s more than a workspace. It’s a passport.

Every painting I create begins as a journey, much like dropping a postcard into a mailbox bound for someplace new. My brushes become the ink, my watercolors the stamps, and the sandy textures I collect from the Gulf Coast beaches act as the embossed seal of authenticity. Each grain of sand carries with it a story of tides, sunsets, and footprints along the shore. When it finds its way into my art, it becomes part of your story too.

In my studio, I often think about how art travels. A painting might begin here, surrounded by the hum of Punta Gorda’s coastal breeze, but soon it’s packed and shipped across the country—or sometimes across oceans. It’s a quiet thrill knowing my work becomes a kind of air mail—flying from my hands to yours, carrying with it the essence of the Gulf Coast.

I call this rhythm of creation and sharing the Tidal Hue Project. Just as the tide moves with an ebb and flow, so does the creative process. Some days the waves bring a calm wash of blues and greens, while other days they crash in with fiery corals and deep indigos. That’s what makes every piece unique—it’s as if the ocean whispers its own instructions.

Collectors often ask what inspires me most, and the answer is always the same: the ocean’s ability to transform. It speaks to our human journey—the highs, the lows, and the quiet in-between moments. In the end, my studio isn’t just a room. It’s a post office for the soul, where art becomes stamped with memory, texture, and emotion before it’s sent off to its forever home.

So, whether you’re a seasoned collector or simply someone who loves the ocean, know that when my work leaves my studio, it doesn’t just arrive at your door—it carries a piece of my world, wrapped up like a letter meant just for you.