I have been creating for as long as memory allows — the small paintings from the 70s are my earliest proof, the first traces of a child already drawn to color and form. Years later, through extracurricular lessons, I began exploring oil sketching, photography, and torn‑paper mosaics, slowly shaping my own self‑taught process across different visual arts.

But wood — old, salvaged, repurposed wood — was the material that eventually felt like destiny.

Though my life was shaped mostly by music — the songwriting, the voice, the production — it was the art that quietly rose to meet me. It became the foundation, the sustainer, the unexpected force that allowed me to remain independent in both my art and my music.

In 2016, I formalized what had always been my path: my own publisher, my own copyrights, my own way of protecting the work that carries my name.

Living in the Bay Area, I traveled from town to town, setting up before sunrise in family‑friendly markets where true artisans still stand against a world of mass‑produced sameness. There, in those early hours, I discovered something rare: people who recognize intention, craftsmanship, and purpose.

Piece by piece, year by year, my reclaimed‑wood originals found their way into thousands of homes. What began as a child’s instinct became a lifelong calling — and the world, beautifully and unexpectedly, made room for it.