Art & Poetry
Where data meets creativity, and the messy, beautiful human experience becomes art
On Making Art
I believe that art and science aren’t opposites—they’re different languages for the same truth. Whether I’m analyzing satellite imagery or standing in front of a blank canvas, I’m asking the same questions: What do I see? What matters? How do I make others see it too?
When creativity strikes, it doesn’t wait for the perfect time. So I paint, I write, I take photos. Sometimes the work is polished. Often it’s raw, unfinished, bleeding into the margins of notebooks. All of it is real.
Visual Art
Paintings, drawings, and experiments at the intersection of observation and intuition. Coming soon…
Photography
Capturing light, moments, and the strange beauty hiding in plain sight. Coming soon…
Poetry
Words that hold what data can’t measure. The messy, true stuff.
A Bad Design
My heels leak,
With each step, grating, chafing,
Could this be by design?
We’ve only been together a few days,
Perhaps it is my fault,
Not taking the time to offer support,
Before slamming, stomping into you.
Who would design such a thing?
No one else would want you in this state,
To suggest so feels like a setup, a hoax.
Perhaps a hairdryer and a rigid form,
Maybe some duct tape,
A pair of pliers, some wire cutters,
To surgically remove the parts of you that rub me the wrong way.
To no avail, and now my foolish faith in you has brought me far from home.
Far, and I think I might be bleeding—
I will carry you the rest of the way.
Soon the limp of uneven stilts,
Will send a pang through my hips, a warning.
Socks on searing sidewalks,
Catching on stale gum,
Collecting stories laid by treads,
Left by soles not soaked in scarlet,
The better of your ilk.
For you, I’ve sacrificed my heels,
My toes harbor liquid cushions,
Feet gone flat,
My balls slowly scorched.
But I still feel for you;
Betrayer.
I know, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t have picked this.
You remind me of me.
Brandishing your name as bait,
Luring investments in naïve idolatry.
Aspiring beyond clearance rack compromises
Seduced by a gilded construction
I championed your promise.
To discard you now
Would be to admit defeat
To waste not only money,
But value of conviction.
So you’ll live in my closet,
Next to the others,
Until I come up with a way to fix you—
Trading band aids for false hope once again—
Or I find the heart to throw you out.
The Ocean Listened
I cried to the ocean today
She listened deeper than I spoke,
and she told me she didn’t care.
So I asked the birds,
but they were too busy
idling against the ocean breeze
I asked the grasses,
they stopped to listen
and went back to sharing quiet whispers with the trees.
Then I asked the wind,
and she swept up my tears faster than they could fall.
I have never felt more loved.
What Comes Next
I’m always creating. New pieces, new explorations, new ways of seeing. If you’d like to collaborate, commission work, or just chat about art and science, reach out.