05/27/2026
Being an artist is, in many ways, a solitary existence.
Most days, it is just me, the canvas, the paint, the silence, and the quiet responsibility of trying to create something that carries feeling. I spend countless hours reaching inward — into memory, experiences, beauty, loss, hope — searching for something that feels true enough to translate into paint.
To me, painting has never simply been about decoration. It is my way of communicating without words. A way of expressing in an abstract way the complexity and beauty of human emotion in the hope that someone else might recognize a part of themselves within it.
And yet, for as fulfilling as creating can be, it also requires a certain comfort with solitude and vulnerability. Every time I share a new work, I feel exposed in a way that is difficult to explain. So when someone connects with a painting — when they write to me, respond to the work, or tell me it moved them in some way — it means more than you probably realize.
Those moments remind me that art creates connection. That somewhere beyond the studio walls, someone understood what I was trying to say.
And through all the long hours in the studio, Lucca is almost always nearby.
