These postcards show ten of my original paintings. If one has found its way to you, thank you for picking it up.
Tap a painting to see it larger.
It’s a structure born out of a dream landscape. In it, I saw what looked like a coniferous tree that expanded with an unfamiliar kind of light—a geometric, repeating blueprint of energy. “Honeycomb” was the only word that felt right to describe that natural, interconnected matrix.
When I later found a physical Hoberman sphere, its ability to expand and collapse perfectly matched the rhythm of that tree. It became the coordinate point where my painting met my writing. I followed it up with a poem exploring those intersecting lines.
Its witness
is asked
to close all eyes.
The roots grow down
into the waters
of Kanas Lake.
Its tallest branch
mimics the sky
of an Eiffel Tower.
The expansion power
can be seen
through a Hoberman sphere.
From all angles,
Paris can collapse
and fold
as if it were
a picnic table.
This is
the honeycomb tree.
I read organizations the way I read a poem — for the structure beneath the surface, and the gap between what’s said and what’s true.