Paintings
Art’s always been my outlet—but I never stuck to one style. Maybe it’s ‘cause my interests are all over the place or I just never liked being boxed in. I remember Seen once looked at my work and said, “Man, you’re all over the place.” He wasn’t wrong.
That’s kind of been the story of my life and my art. Back in the day, I’d pull from whatever moved me—old train culture, legendary writers like Stay High 149 or Tracy 168. You can see it in my early pieces. We had our limits then—train cars, hardstyle's, learning how to stretch letters—but we made it ours.
Eventually, I got tired of just writing my name over and over. I wanted to do more. So I started throwing in cartoon characters, trying new things, shifting from graffiti walls to canvas. In my little studio, I messed around with different styles—figurative stuff, portraits, even some Pop Art. It gave me space to breathe.
Painting became therapy, the same way riding a motorcycle or jamming on a guitar helped me clear my head. But in 2016, when I lost my wife after 30 years together, everything just stopped. I couldn’t paint. I was a mess. I’ve been slowly putting the pieces back together since then, hoping one day I’ll pick up the brush again with fresh eyes.
Until then, I’m sharing a collection of work that reflects that journey—raw, inconsistent maybe, but real. Every piece tells a part of the story.
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