"Bar People captures the quiet theater of adult life through a deliberately playful lens. These paintings live in the tension between innocence and indulgence where celebration, avoidance, ritual, loneliness, and connection all share the same space.
A bar is one of the few public places where people are allowed to be visibly unfinished. It is also one of the rare spaces where people from all walks of life sit side by side without pretense. To sit at a bar is an intentional act. no one arrives without a reason. Some to celebrate, some to disappear, some to connect, and others because they have nowhere else to go. It is a place where people show up as they are or who they become after a drink or two.
In these spaces, emotion is difficult to hide. You can often see it in someones face, feel it in their energy, notice it in their body language, and even in what they choose to drink. Some sit quietly, carrying sadness or exhaustion. Others are present, joyful, and deeply engaged with the moment, not escaping reality but embracing it. The bar becomes a place where both of these states can exist comfortably at the same time.
Influenced by modernist abstraction, the figures are distilled into gesture and presence rather than likeness. The style feels carefree and even humorous while subtle details hint at compulsion, desire, and vulnerability. The work is playful but not innocent. Lighthearted but not safe. Honest in a way that can feel slightly uncomfortable.
Bar People are not portraits of individuals but reflections of human behavior. Social, flawed, hungry, alone, and deeply recognizable. In many ways, the presence of someone at a bar can feel like the world is ending outside while, inside, the have found a place that feels strangely safe.
This piece is rooted in reflection on family, legacy, and the quiet roles people play in shaping who we become. Over the past year, after the disruption and rebuilding that followed Hurricane Helene, I found myself thinking more about where I come from and the people who built the foundation beneath me.
The painting depicts my grandfather holding my cousin. To me, it represents generational strength. The idea that grandparents witness entire life cycles unfold. They watch their children grow, and if they are fortunate, they witness the next generation begin to form. They become the steady presence in the background of a family’s story.
This is the first time I have approached family in my work this directly. The painting became less about creating a portrait and more about what it means to be someone others rely on. Someone who builds something that continues long after they are gone.
This work is less about recreating a photograph and more about capturing the weight of what a moment can represents over time. At its core, this piece is about legacy, protection, and the invisible structure that holds families together. 1/29/2026
Last week, we talked about robots. This week, I want to dive into something I call 'Dead Mafia' (pictured above). Animals have always been a huge part of my life, and growing up, I was constantly tuned into Animal Planet and National Geographic—channels that I still turn to today, aside from sports. 'Dead Mafia' is a concept I developed early in my career, during a time when I was recovering from an illness. While recovering I was stuck indoors, those channels became my daily escape. But while I watched, I felt like nothing in the outside world made sense. Everything was continuing without me, while my life had come to a complete halt. I created these characters as a way to express that confusion, and their faces reflect the same disorientation I was feeling. The name 'Dead Mafia' came from the sense that I felt dead to the world, as if my existence had ended. Yet, deep down, I knew I wasn’t done—I was going to come back. I didn’t know how or what that would look like, but I had a sense that everything I was going through had a larger purpose, and I was determined to persevere. As I’ve grown as an artist, these characters have continued to resurface, much like the robots. I don’t often revisit them, but when I do, I feel a deep connection to them. This year, I created a new series of these characters to celebrate that connection. I wanted to bring them back and reconnect with the feelings I had when I first made them. Every year presents new challenges and outcomes, and this year has been no different. It’s been a time of growth, both personally and artistically. Revisiting the past and creating something rooted in where it all began has allowed me to express the challenges and confusion that come with growth and artistry.
Robots were my first creations following my surgery. In the photos above, you can see the first robot I painted just days after my head surgery. The painting began with me randomly applying shapes to the background. I then added a square toward the top half of the canvas, which eventually evolved into a robot. I incorporated wires extending from the robot’s head and stomach, symbolizing the personal struggles I faced during my recovery. The robots frequently hold flowers, representing the presence of hope and beauty even through challenging times. These robots have been a staple of my career since the beginning, accompanying me everywhere. They provided me with a means to express myself during a period when I was isolated from the world—when life was moving on, but mine seemed at a standstill. The robots became a way for me to convey my feelings during recovery in a manner that resonated deeply with me. Some might even say that the robots are a reflection of myself. The robots have garnered significant attention, appearing in a Cardi B music video, displayed in galleries across the country, auctioned off with the American Cancer Society, and becoming part of the permanent collection at Endicott College, my alma mater. These robots will continue to grow and evolve alongside me, but their essence will always remain the same. Through struggles, hardship, and pain, you must always hold onto a bouquet of flowers and recognize the beauty on the other side. There is always hope, and you should never give up.