Sold Out | Sand Horizon II

This is a signed, limited edition print.

- Shipping is free and fully insured worldwide

- Printed on heavyweight watercolor paper with archival ink

- 20 x 38 inches or 50.8 x 96.52 centimeters

- Each print is signed, numbered and titled  

- Matte finish 

- Printed and shipped from Charleston, SC

 About the Series

The new series is called Scenes of Summer. These works celebrate the heat, light, and restless energy of the season—the way everything in nature seems to stretch outward, grow taller, and glow at the edges. They’re built from impressions of plants, landscapes, and sea horizons. 

Some of the paintings were inspired by Iris flowers. While mixing a blue color, I noticed the pigment began to separate as it dried. At first, I thought I’d have to wash the surface, but as it settled, it left behind a delicate network of lines that perfectly echoed the veins of a petal. That moment—unexpected and unpredictable—inspired the group of Iris paintings. I actually called the manufacturer to figure out what reaction causes this separation. I don’t know if that exact pattern will happen again, but for now it lives here. This reminds me about how sometimes what begins as a mistake becomes a highlight by the awareness to recognize its potential.

For the horizon paintings, I worked outside. I wanted to paint a landscape while being inside it—letting the environment participate in the process. Sometimes the wind influenced the direction of movement, and the heavy humidity slowed the drying time, giving me more space to react and shift things on the surface. I incorporate sand directly into the paintings— a gesture toward texture but also as a way of embedding part of the land itself into the image. There’s something grounding about using material from the landscape to help form its own depiction. It turns the painting into a kind of record that is made of both observation and of the place itself.

Like in all my paintings, I like to hold on to a certain looseness. I like to leave some drips on the surface because they remind me of the materiality of paint—of its weight, movement, and motion. I also like when a painting captures a sensation or impression without illustration, like it's not trying too hard. Trying too hard is not the same as trying. I think mystery gives the work space to breathe. For me, it's about allowing the image to stay open—like a memory that doesn’t need to be exact to feel true.

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