Standalone paintings that live outside my collections. Each one is a signed original.
This piece is very special to me. A single streak of gold cutting through deep matte black, photographed on the easel in my studio. It is about the light we all carry inside, even when everything around us feels dark, and how it always finds its way through.
We think of circles as repetition.
Returning to the same place.
Beginning, ending, beginning again.
But nothing truly returns unchanged.
We move around our own center,
sometimes drawn back to it,
sometimes pushing against its gravity.
And perhaps that is what becoming feels like.
Not a straight line forward,
but a constant movement between who we are
and who we are trying to become.
Each turn reaches a little further.
Each spark leaves a trace.
Each time we return to ourselves,
we find something there that wasn’t there before.
Until what once looked like a circle
becomes something else, like an expansion.
Perhaps growth is not leaving our center behind.
Perhaps it is seeing how far we can travel,
how much space we can occupy, and
how brightly we can spark... without losing the thread that leads us home.
Deep ultramarine blues built up in thick, textured layers, with two bright streaks of light radiating from a single glowing point.
A city skyline dissolving under a heavy golden sky. This painting is about the pause between day and night, noise and silence, and how much lives inside that pause.
Steel blue meeting rust across a deeply scored, textured surface. Two fields of colour leaning into each other along one diagonal line. I carved into the paint while it was still wet, so the canvas carries its own scars and shines where the light catches them.
Energetic strokes of pink, magenta and teal over a heavily textured white ground. I worked this canvas fast, letting the colours collide and cross each other like voices in a busy room.
Seasons is my ongoing collection. Each painting translates a chapter of life into a season of the year: the quiet weight of winter, the reaching optimism of spring.
Resilience came from thinking about the part of strength we don't usually see.
We often admire people for how much they can carry. For continuing, adapting, showing up, finding a way forward. But I became interested in what happens underneath all of that.
The figure is curled into herself, almost as if she needs a moment away from the world. She isn't defeated, but she is tired. And for me, that became the heart of the painting.
Because resilience isn't always standing tall.
Sometimes it's exhaustion.
Sometimes it's retreating.
Sometimes it's allowing yourself to be vulnerable before finding the strength to move again.
I wanted to paint that space in between, when someone is still strong, but no longer pretending that strength comes without a cost.
The piano adds some delicacy, and I can almost hear the sound of the keys as she sits on them, exhausted.
This original has found its home. A limited edition fine art print of Resilience is available. View the print →
Dream Up is about expansion.
I started this painting during spring in the Netherlands and finished it in summer. Somehow, the painting needed its own time too.
What I love about living somewhere with very defined seasons is seeing how clearly nature knows when to retreat and when to return. After months of stillness, everything starts looking for light again. It takes space. It grows. It blooms.
I think we do that too.
There are seasons when we need to go inward, and others when something in us is ready to open again.
I built this piece slowly, through four layers of acrylic. Each one changed what was underneath without completely erasing it. I like that because it feels very close to how we change as people. We grow, but we carry traces of who we were before.
For me, Spring is that moment when you realize your season has changed.
And you allow yourself to bloom again.
This chapter of the Seasons collection is still being painted. Check back soon.
This chapter of the Seasons collection is still being painted. Check back soon.
