That evening, the sky turned to silk. All around me, Santa Monica seemed to exhale, and the sea breathed it in, a communion of light and water. I was too tired to think, too content to control. I let the brush drift, mingling wet color with wet light, as if the horizon itself had softened into memory. The pastels arrived quietly, like a sigh at the end of a long day, asking for nothing but stillness. This painting is a love letter to the quiet magic of impermanence, and the beauty that arrives when we stop chasing and simply begin to see.
For me, the ocean is not just a subject—it's a teacher, a healer, and a home. Each painting is a love letter to the waters that have shaped every chapter of my life, from childhood adventures with my father to solo journeys around the world. When I paint, I'm not just capturing a scene; I'm preserving a feeling, a moment when the boundary between artist and ocean dissolves, and we become one with the endless blue.