Finding My Way Back to the Canvas

For a long time, I wondered if I would ever really get back to painting.

Art had been a big part of my life for years. I spent countless hours in my basement studio, surrounded by canvases, paint, paper, music, photographs, and whatever else happened to catch my eye. I never really followed a strict formula. I liked experimenting, layering, covering things up, uncovering them again, and letting a painting evolve into something I hadn't necessarily planned.

Then life changed.

When my daughter, Francesca, was born, my priorities shifted. The hours I once spent in my studio were replaced by diapers, bedtime routines, work, family, and all the beautiful chaos that comes with raising a family.

And then, about three years later, Massimo came along.

By that point, the idea of finding time to paint felt even more distant. Two young kids, a full-time career, and everything else that comes with family life left very little time for sitting down in front of a blank canvas.

Eventually, days turned into months, and months turned into years.

My brushes stayed in the basement.

But I never really stopped thinking about painting.

I would walk past the pieces I had created years earlier and wonder what it would feel like to start again. I also wondered whether the creativity was still there.

Recently, I decided to find out.

Starting Again

Coming back to the studio has felt a little strange—and really exciting.

I don't feel like I'm trying to recreate the artist I was years ago. Instead, I'm interested in seeing where I am now.

My life is different. My experiences are different. And I think that inevitably finds its way into the work.

My paintings are built through layers. I might begin with acrylic paint and then add pencil, oil pastel, chalk, paper, magazine pages, music sheets, stencils, spray paint, or whatever else feels right for the piece. Sometimes I have an idea when I start. Other times, the painting tells me where it wants to go.

I enjoy that uncertainty.

There is something exciting about putting down a layer that you know might eventually be covered by another one. Marks disappear. Colors change. Pieces of the original image peek through. What initially looks like a mistake can become one of the most important parts of the finished painting.

For me, that's where the painting starts to become interesting.

A Different Kind of Beginning

Relaunching my website and putting my work back out into the world is a little intimidating.

There is always that question in the back of your mind:

Will anyone connect with this?

But I've realized that I don't need to have the answer before I begin.

I just need to create.

I still have paintings from earlier chapters of my life, along with newer work and ideas that I want to explore. Some pieces have been sitting in my basement for years, waiting patiently for someone to see them.

So I'm opening the studio door again.

I'm sharing the paintings, the process, and eventually the new work as it develops.

Maybe this isn't really a comeback.

Maybe it's just the next chapter.

Either way, I'm glad to be painting again.

Thanks for being here.