Art as an escape and a means to express, like so many artists, is the visual language I gravitated towards as a child and one that I continue to learn today. Although I am perceptive to every dialect, graphite is my main medium of speaking. It is with a pencil I feel most fluent and capable of crafting works that echo a passion and purpose. Naturally, the significance behind my pieces is intended to transcend the picture plane and resound beyond simple observation. It is my Christian faith that forms, fires and inspires my work.
The anatomical accuracy and demonstration of observation to perfection seen in such works as Michelangelo’s The Lamentation and da Vinci’s Study of Hands, speak to a profound desire of replicating man’s structure down to every last tendon. This is an artistic endeavor I share with the old masters as a means of referencing the period’s illustrious work while simultaneously infusing it with a contemporary interpretation of timeless subjects. Similar to how viewers embark on a visual exploration of salvation and its accompanying artistic aesthetics in the great works of the Renaissance, so too does my art paint a portrayal of Christ’s love—explicitly, sometimes subtly, but always accessibly.
And like any livelihood, making art is essential to maintaining stability in my life. What I mean is, if I am not utilizing my hands in a creative manner for too long, then I become restless and unsettled at best. Therefore, as much as addressing and expressing God’s love for others is the defining quality of my work, I must admit that it is undoubtedly a selfish ambition as well, for I feel closest to my creator when creating something that satisfies myself and glorifies Him.
Ultimately, Vincent van Gogh penned my purpose best: “Christ alone, of all the philosophers, magicians, etc., has affirmed eternal life as the most important certainty, the infinity of time, the futility of death, the necessity and purpose of serenity and devotion. He lived serenely, as an artist greater than all other artists, scorning marble and clay and paint, working in the living flesh. In other words, this peerless artist, scarcely conceivable with the blunt instrument of our modern, nervous and obtuse brains, made neither statues nor paintings nor books. He maintained in no uncertain terms that he made…living men, immortals.”