As I laid down the final strokes for "Lucky's Reflection", I realized this painting had become something more than a composition of windowpanes, shadows, and light. Somewhere between the pencil and the paint, the surface gave way to something deeper. It became a metaphor—for attention, for grace, for alignment.
What began as an architectural study became a conversation. With the Faulk sister’s quiet influence. With Truman’s childhood ghosts. With the walls that holds stories and scissors and Southern grace. And with my own voice, whispering through the process: draw what’s inside before you finish what’s outside.

What began as nostalgia turned into connection:
- With the past (a building, a courthouse, a haberdashery)
- With the present (my own struggle to focus and create)
- With something bigger than me, moving through.

This became a piece about seeing clearly. About how our history—personal, communal, sacred—shapes what’s looking back at us.
You’ve seen the layers—
Now I invite you to see the whole. One might would call it the sacred art of remembering. It’s not just a window. It’s a mirror.