It feels good to say this…
I’m inspired again.
A few days ago, I ordered six 30x40 gallery-wrapped canvases. They haven't even arrived yet, but I already know exactly what one of them is going to become. Like many of my favorite paintings, it will begin with my field easel set up somewhere outdoors, chasing the light and painting en plein air.
There’s something special about painting on location. Standing in a place, hearing the wind move through the trees, feeling the warmth of the sun, and trying to capture that fleeting moment with bold brushstrokes reminds me why I fell in love with painting in the first place. It’s where I feel most connected—not just to the landscape, but to the creative process itself.
Over the past several weeks, I've spent some time reflecting, making a few important changes, and finding my way back to a healthier rhythm. Somewhere along the way, I realized that my creative spark had grown quieter than I wanted to admit. Thankfully, that's beginning to change.
Lately, ideas have been pouring into my sketchbook faster than I can keep up. I have concepts for new landscapes, several larger paintings I've been dreaming about, and even a few new series that I'm excited to explore. It's the kind of excitement that keeps your mind turning long after you've gone to bed because you're already imagining the next brushstroke.
One thing this season has reminded me is that creativity doesn't exist in isolation. It grows when we take care of ourselves, slow down enough to notice the world around us, and create space for inspiration to find us. Sometimes the best thing we can do for our art isn't to push harder—it's to reconnect with the things that help us see clearly again.
When your mind is in the right place, you notice everything. The way morning light spills across a mountain ridge. The unexpected colors hiding inside a shadow. The quiet story waiting in an old weathered barn or forgotten country road. Those moments have always been there—they're just easier to see when you're fully present.
So here's to fresh canvases, early mornings with my easel, paint-covered hands, and countless miles of back roads searching for the next scene worth preserving.
The next chapter is already taking shape, and I couldn't be more excited to share it with you.
Thank you for following along on this journey. I have a feeling these next few weeks will bring some of my biggest, boldest, and most meaningful paintings yet—and I can't wait for you to see them.
I
