Lately I’ve been hyper-focused on light and texture. I can get seasonal affective disorder (SAD) pretty bad in the winter when the days are shorter and days or even weeks can go by without the appearance of the sun. When the sun does decide to make an appearance it feels like I’m awaking from a coma. I notice qualities of the light that I would likely otherwise ignore the rest of the year when sunlight is plentiful: how the light looks like water through an old window; the shapes that it creates when it hits a living room armchair; how it moves across nearby buildings until it hits a window and bounces into an otherwise dark corner of my room. It’s magical. I’ve recently taken to carrying a mirrorless camera around with me to make sure I’m ready when the sun hits.

My reawakened senses have also led me to notice textures around me, even when dynamic light isn’t present. The warehouse that my studio resides in has no end of patina and grit. Even if I don’t have my camera on-hand, my iPhone and Snapseed app are more than sufficient at capturing painterly images of the tactile world around me. While these exercises in awareness and being present are important in and of themselves, they also translate to my studio and portrait work.