Why I Do This
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I've always loved following the news and understanding the events that shape our country and our world. I've always loved history and discovering how yesterday's decisions become today's reality. History isn't just something that happened a hundred years ago. We're living it every single day. Every headline. Every election. Every breakthrough. Every tragedy.
Every unbelievable "Did that really just happen?" moment eventually becomes part of the story we call history.
Most people move on to tomorrow's news. I couldn't.

I believe future generations deserve more than dates, headlines, tweets, and thirty-second sound bites. We live in a world where history is consumed one notification at a time, then buried beneath the next breaking story before we've had a chance to understand what just happened.and disappears when the next text alert replaces it. That's why I do this. The Chronicle slows history down. It gives us the opportunity to step back, look closer, see the connections, and remember not only what happened—but what it felt like to live through it. Every painting adds context to a world that too often moves on before the story has been fully told. History deserves more than a sound bite. It deserves to be remembered.

People sometimes ask why I created Chronicle of an Unquiet Age? The truth is...I think the Chronicle created me. It challenged me. It changed me. It gave me a purpose I never expected.​
I've always been a storyteller. Long before I became an artist, I was fascinated by people, the stories they tell, the stories they hide, and the moments that reveal who they really are. Painting simply became the way I chose to tell those stories.
When I decided to paint something completely different from my usual portraits and animals in January 2020, I had no intention of creating a historical archive. I simply wanted to paint a one-off commentary about President Trump and the media firestorm surrounding the Russia Collusion investigation. Then came impeachment. Then acquittal. Then, almost overnight, the world shut down with COVID-19. There hadn't been a global pandemic in a century. I thought these
"Life-quakes" need to be acknowledged and recorded as people are living through it. I remember thinking..."I should put this on canvas, too."That's when everything changed. A Global Life-quake. One painting became another...then another...until I realized I wasn't simply creating paintings anymore. I was creating a visual chronicle of history as it unfolded.

Looking back over the past six years, it's hard not to wonder if every chapter of my life had quietly been preparing me for this moment. My degree in Communications. Years as an entertainment publicist in Los Angeles. A lifelong fascination with history.
An insatiable curiosity. A storyteller's instinct. And yes...a wicked sense of humor. At the time, none of those things seemed connected. Then the world changed. Suddenly, everything I'd learned had a purpose. I can't explain it any better than this...
I felt compelled to paint. Not because I thought I was creating something important. Because I couldn't imagine not doing it. Whether you call it purpose, providence, or simply extraordinary timing,
I believe I was here "for such a time as this." Every canvas begins the same way—with research. I read constantly. I compare sources. I follow stories as they develop.Then I ask myself one simple question: Will this matter years from now? If the answer is yes... I paint it. Not years later after history has sorted everything out. Right then. While history is still unfolding. History is serious. But that doesn't mean it can't be funny. Let's face it—the last several years have given us headlines so unbelievable you couldn't make them up. Some days they practically painted themselves. 
History has a wicked sense of humor. So do I.
That humor isn't there to make light of history. It's there because sometimes the truth really is stranger than fiction.
If you spend time with the Chronicle, you'll discover visual puns, symbolism, hidden imagery, political color cues, pop culture references, and details that continue revealing themselves long after the first look. History has layers. These paintings should too. Very little on the canvas is accidental. I want people to slow down. Look closer. Ask questions.
Start conversations. Laugh when the moment deserves it. Think when it demands it. And leave having discovered something they didn't notice the first time. More than anything, I wanted to preserve not only what happened...
But what it felt like to live through it. The uncertainty. The victories. The heartbreak. The resilience. The absurdity.
The hope. For such a time as this, I simply happened to be the storyteller holding the brush.
This is my contribution to the historical record.
And I leave you with the same challenge that guides every painting...

Pay Attention...
Tomorrow Is Being Written Today.​