My Inspiration

For those who don’t know, my mom unexpectedly passed away a few months ago.

She had just begun her second battle with cancer after being cancer-free for nearly two years. But she never got the chance to finish that fight. Severe pneumonia came out of nowhere, and it moved fast.

She was fine on Friday.
Hospital on Saturday.
Gone on Sunday.

I never planned on sharing this publicly. But recently, I received a handwritten card from a longtime friend that stopped me in my tracks. It meant more than I can explain. And with my work starting to reach a wider audience, this felt like the right moment to share a part of the story behind it.

Since her passing, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting. On life. On direction. On what actually matters.

And in that process, I realized something was missing.

Not something small. Something foundational.

My art.

Until recently, I could count on one hand the number of times I had sat down to draw over the past 10 years. More than 10 years. That’s difficult to admit, especially considering how much my work meant to her.

She was always my biggest supporter. Every time I showed her a new piece, her eyes lit up. It didn’t matter if it was great or not. To her, it was. She believed in me long before there was anything to point to as proof.

I miss her every day. But I’ve never believed in staying stuck, replaying the past and wishing it looked different. Nothing meaningful gets built from that place.

So I made a decision.

I took that energy and put it somewhere it could create something.

I came back to the work.

Over the past month, I’ve rediscovered something I didn’t realize I had lost. The process. The discipline. The challenge of attempting something that feels just out of reach.

In many ways, it feels like starting over. And that’s exactly what makes it exciting.

I’m seeing things differently now. Not just as they are, but as they could be interpreted, refined, and brought to life through graphite. I’m pushing further. Taking risks I wouldn’t have taken before. Holding the work to a higher standard.

Because now, it means something different.

There’s something powerful about taking a blank sheet of paper and the simplest tool imaginable, and turning it into something that stops people in their tracks.

A reaction.
A connection.
A moment that stays with them.

That moment is everything.

That’s what I’m chasing.

And I believe the work I’m creating now is on a completely different level than anything I’ve done before.

New beginnings don’t always arrive the way you expect. But when they do, you have a choice. Ignore them, or build something from them.

I chose to build.

I wish my mom was here to see what I’m creating now.

She’d be proud.

Actually, she is.

I know she’s watching.