New Addiction
This painting marks a first — not just for Season Eleven, but for me.
It’s the first time one of my paintings has left the studio and stepped into the world. The first time someone else’s wall carried the weight of my work. The first time I’ve seen my art framed by fresh ink and humming needles. To have it hanging at New Addiction, surrounded by artists who carve stories into skin every day, is an honor I won’t forget.
This isn’t just paint - It’s permission.
To be seen. To be felt. To take up space.
Thank you, New Addiction, for letting this be the beginning.
On Display at New Addiction Tattoos,
Vero Beach, FL
Ink Stains
He’s the leather-clad sanctuary every misfit heart secretly prays for. A jawline carved from rebellion, eyes that say nothing and promise everything. He doesn’t smile easy, doesn’t bend for authority, doesn’t explain a damn thing to anyone—but when the world turns vicious, he positions himself between you and the teeth. Stoic to the crowd, soft only for the ones he swears to protect. Long live the
Smokebreak Angel: the winged warning shot for anyone testing her patience. She’s tired, she’s divine, and she’s done with your shit. Ink, attitude, and a halo made of pure exhaustion.
As above, so below; as within, so without; as the universe, so the soul
The big storms mirror the small ones.
The cosmos spirals like your own damn heartbeat.
Your life isn’t random; it’s patterned after something ancient and enormous.
Whatever war you’re fighting inside will eventually claw its way out into your world.
Peace too.
You become your own weather system.
You carry your climate.
You’re
“Making wishes on all the starfishes.”
It wasn’t meant to be profound, but the moment the words hit the air, they stuck to me like saltwater. There’s something beautifully childlike about the idea: a world where every starfish becomes a wish waiting to be made, every tide pool a tiny universe answering back.
The mermaid in this painting is hope with a heartbeat, sitting on the ocean floor collect
A tribute carved in saltwater and sunset. Pops beneath the Seven Mile Bridge — the man, the myth, the anchor. A portrait of quiet strength, hard-earned peace, and the kind of soul the Keys never forget.”