I've always had a passion for hyperrealism and impressionist realism, inspired by artists like Daniel Sprick and Jono Dry. The attention to detail it takes to capture every moment and emotion was special to me.

When I turned 13, my uncle, Clint Lindell, introduced me to art, and he opened my eyes to how much it can change the way we see the things around us. I started with just 2B graphite pencils. I struggled to understand proportions, so I turned to the internet for help. The first video I really committed to was a "How to Draw Napoleon Dynamite" tutorial. It took three attempts, but it wasn't long before it inspired me to try my own work.

My first official piece, "Patience," showed a dog looking out a window, waiting for its owners to come home. I dedicated it to our old family dog, and it set me down a path I never imagined I'd follow. Something about the way animals can be represented in art changed me. The life in an animal's eyes is easy to miss in a passing glance. Hold that animal still forever, full of emotion, memories, and thought, and the picture becomes something beautiful.

I kept building on that through high school, taking every art class I could. Bridgette De Marco gave me a traditional foundation, teaching me the rules of art and its history. My senior year fell during COVID, and I took two art courses back to back, which gave me three hours a day (lunch included) to work on my first portfolio, focused on human emotion. At the time I didn't think art could become anything more, but once I started college I realized how much more there was. In my first year at Arizona State, I took a live figure drawing course despite being an engineering major. The demand for accuracy in proportion was challenging, but it pushed me in all the right ways.

From there, I took it seriously. It certainly distracted me from my other plans, but I was hooked. I began my first series: nine birds, each one a bird I love and care for. Working as an educator with Liberty Wildlife, I developed a real affection for our avian friends, especially owls, hawks, and other birds of prey. The raven and the kookaburra stood out most. They have a personality all their own and so much thought behind everything they do, so I wanted to draw them first, and the kookaburra became the first piece in the series. The work spans two mediums. Some pieces are traditional charcoal on paper, and others are digital, drawn with charcoal brushes on a single layer with no digital tricks. The series is now nearly complete, with only a few birds left to go.

While working on it, I started taking commissions, with pieces like "Ginger," a portrait of someone's dog. That eventually led me to apply to my first gallery, Art One in Scottsdale, Arizona. I was accepted and made my first sales there. But with the rise of AI-generated artwork and a shifting market, the gallery closed after more than 30 years. Sales became harder, and so many artists were pushed out of their careers.

It was disappointing to watch a world I love change so much, but I'm seeing now that as people tire of the same AI artwork, artists are making a return. I'm part of that pack, looking to inspire and create more of what I love.

These days I mostly draw animals, and as you may notice, the eyes are always my main priority, because they're what keep that feeling alive. I still have so much to learn and can't wait to keep learning. I'm refining my fur technique, I plan to start working in oils soon, and along the way I want to get back to drawing people.