My love of Spanish masters from Picasso to Goya and Velazquez is, curiously, non-evident in much of my work. I do have an impressive bookshelf or two that feeds this Spanish-hearted lust. In addition to several oversized art books, it is peppered with “degenerate” novels and religious texts which do inhabit my work. 

Critics (and my mom) once said that my paint handling invokes memories of the linework in DeKooning portraiture and Basquiat’s Neo-expressionist street art, while feeling new, celebratory, and plain-spoken all at once. Woah, I accept that assessment – even though I’ve been telling people that I want to be the next Picasso since was seven years old.

Today, I live in Seattle, Washington, in a skinny house on a skinny street. My family and I enjoy living in the city because I have this thing for being able to walk for coffee and wear ironic rock music t-shirts. Living in our skinny house allows me to keep one eye on Mount Rainier and the other on The Space Needle.

The weirdest part, is that my family insisted on getting a 70-pound Golden-doodle, who, despite my best efforts, thinks I am the cat’s meow.