Los Angeles and Italy leave me notes on the ground, and I answer them with a painting, a drawing, a story, sometimes all three. I walk with my eyes open, scanning sidewalks and piazzas, picking up scraps of paper wherever I go. If there’s handwriting or something typewritten on it, it feels like a clue, like the world is leaving me signs.
One of the pieces in this painting was a shopping list I found. I ended up covering it completely, but before I did, I noticed that the only item not crossed out was “yogurt.” That tiny detail stayed with me, a stranger’s forgotten errand.
I pocket these small findings and bring them back to the studio. Later, they slip into my work, tucked between charcoal lines, layered under oil pastels, held in place with acrylic.
This painting is part portrait, part scavenger hunt. Every mark and every scrap carries something I once found in the world and turned into something new. Maybe the yogurt isn’t the only thing we sometimes forget. Maybe we leave little pieces of ourselves behind until we are ready to find them again and bring them back home.

Ships directly from the me, unframed, rolled in a tube with certificate of authenticity.