I visited a few studios of mid-to-late career artists recently, and it was a sobering, heavy sight.

Seeing hundreds of canvases stacked in the dark, gathering dust while waiting for a discovery that may never come, is heartbreaking. There is a point where holding onto work becomes detrimental, turning a studio into a mausoleum rather than a place of birth. The 'discovery myth' is a romanticized trap that keeps beautiful energy locked in storage; it reminded me exactly why I refuse to let my work go stale.

My practice thrives because I choose to get the art out into the world, into homes, and into the hands of people where it can actually breathe. I’d rather see a painting bring a smile to a stranger today than have it lean against a cold wall for twenty years hoping for a museum's nod.