16 × 20-inch on stretched canvas
It’s a piece about stillness, companionship, and the quiet ways the people we love stay with us long after they’re gone. In the foreground, it’s just me and my loyal Tavi Guy, standing together in that soft kind of silence where nothing needs to be said. We’re taking in the night sky, side by side, steady, present.
But under UV light, the painting reveals the rest of the story.
A tiny glowing dragonfly rests near the ground, representing my dad, who passed last year. And above my right shoulder, a single bright star points inward, embodying my mom, who passed just before Christmas, a quiet reminder that they are missed.
The stars themselves glow with my lifelong love of astronomy, the thing that first taught me to look up, to wonder, and to sense the quiet threads that connect us across time.
This piece holds a lot of heart for me. I hope it brings a little light to you, too.
And in a full‑circle kind of way, my aunt has already claimed this one. It will eventually hang in what used to be my mom’s bedroom — now the spare room in her home — which feels exactly right.
16 × 20-inch on stretched canvas
It’s a piece about stillness, companionship, and the quiet ways the people we love stay with us long after they’re gone. In the foreground, it’s just me and my loyal Tavi Guy, standing together in that soft kind of silence where nothing needs to be said. We’re taking in the night sky, side by side, steady, present.
But under UV light, the painting reveals the rest of the story.
A tiny glowing dragonfly rests near the ground, representing my dad, who passed last year. And above my right shoulder, a single bright star points inward, embodying my mom, who passed just before Christmas, a quiet reminder that they are missed.
The stars themselves glow with my lifelong love of astronomy, the thing that first taught me to look up, to wonder, and to sense the quiet threads that connect us across time.
This piece holds a lot of heart for me. I hope it brings a little light to you, too.
And in a full‑circle kind of way, my aunt has already claimed this one. It will eventually hang in what used to be my mom’s bedroom — now the spare room in her home — which feels exactly right.