A Return to Home
Today I woke up with a creative heaviness — not in a negative sense, but a fullness. My mind is overflowing with ideas, dreams, visions, and this deep desire to shape a life that is peaceful, abundant, nurturing, and intentionally mine. I want a life filled with creativity, service, generosity, gratitude, and beauty. Lately I’ve been reflecting on the work I want to create next — work that is vulnerable, honest, emotional, and spiritually rooted. Work that represents who I am internally and externally. Work that is for others, but also deeply for me.
For years, I made art thinking about who would consume it, whether it would sell, how I would market it. It was intuitive, but not always personal. I rarely asked myself how my work made me feel. Now something new is calling — a shift toward storytelling, journaling, emotional exposure, lineage, heritage, culture, politics, spirituality, and humanity. I want this next body of work to be my most meaningful yet. I want to paint again, to feel the brush hit the canvas, to get lost in creation the way I used to as a kid with a sketchbook and music on repeat.
As I’ve gotten older I’m learning who I am, who I serve, how I want to exist in this world. I’m craving research, exploration, and expansion — almost like crafting my own MFA. I want to work small and intimate, and also large — 6x6 feet, 8x8 feet, bigger. I want discipline, structure, consistency, not just as a teacher, but as an artist and person. In my real life as well like — what I eat, how I move, how I rest, how I love — is no longer separate from what I make. My art is all of it intertwined: spirit, intellect, environment, family, abundance, struggle, joy, ancestry. Creation feels like a superpower. It feels divine.
Spiritually, I’ve always believed in something greater — maybe not in the singular way I was raised, but through energy, ancestors, intuition, frequency. I feel my lineage within me — their pain, their strength, their dreams, their love — all flowing forward into who I’m becoming. We carry our past, shape our present, and dream our future simultaneously. That’s beautiful to me.
Lately I’ve felt the push and pull of connection. I love my family and friends deeply, but life is busy — teaching countless students, collaborating with coworkers, balancing responsibilities. Sometimes I don’t talk to people for weeks and I feel guilty, like I’m failing them. But truly, I’m just at capacity. I need time to rest and return fully. That doesn’t mean I love anyone less. It just means I’m human. In adulthood, connection takes more planning, more grace, more understanding. We’re all doing our best.
I’ve been dreaming about a new solo show — number three or four. I want it to feel like an album: pieces about my story, research, identity, lineage, abstraction, merchandise, everything. I want to do it all, but I also want to pace myself. Ideas arrive because they want to be manifested. My ancestors guide them. My higher self already knows the success I’m building toward.
I dream of a home too — mid-century modern, surrounded by trees, natural light, land, a place for family. It may take a few years, but it’s there, forming. Life is an evolving project. Becoming a husband, a father — I’m not fully ready, but I’m preparing. Credit, savings, discipline, growth. All of it is part of self-becoming.
A few days ago I walked through an antique store filled with old furniture, old art, old lives. Picasso, Matisse, pieces from the 60s, 80s, 2000s. I felt energy in the room — the way people valued objects, paintings, stories. I imagined my home filled with art that feels like home — cozy, sacred, curated by love, not status. That idea of home keeps returning. Home in people. Home in partnership. Home in creativity and spirit. Home in abundance. Home in community. Home in myself.
Yesterday a student told me he’s been praying for me. He noticed I seemed stressed and prayed for peace and ease over my life. It nearly moved me to tears. I felt light, free, loved — and I realized I’ve strayed from prayer even though spirituality has always grounded me. Years ago I prayed, meditated, journaled constantly. That was my self-care. Hearing that — knowing someone took time to pray for me — reminded me that I am supported, protected, and cared for. My ancestors speak to me through my students, films, loved ones, synchronicities. They’re telling me: we’re here, keep going, keep creating, keep manifesting, keep loving, keep trusting. We got you!
People got me. The universe got me. My ancestors got me. With feeling all of this support and love I’m ready to step fully into the artist, partner, friend, son, and future father I’m meant to become. I want to make art that reflects the life I’m manifesting — abundantly, spiritually, communally, creatively, lovingly. Visual prayers for what I deserve and what I will build. This next chapter feels like alignment — a return home.
