When I was 17, I painted a terracotta pot for my friend’s grave because I didn’t know what else to do with my grief. Years later, his mom asked me to paint him again.

At art night, anyone can draw. We all start with the same still life—and by the end, no two drawings look the same. A lesson in seeing, observing, and trusting your eyes.

I used to be embarrassed by the mess in my studio. Now I can’t paint without it.

I don’t stage my mess. I paint it.
Traditional still life asks for perfection—polished glass, clean plates, tidy fruit. But what happens when we start painting what’s actually there?