There are certain scenes and subjects I’ve stumbled across during my short time on earth that I feel an overwhelming compulsion to attempt to capture with a brush, pencil, pen, or charcoal. Not necessarily to document, as a camera can accomplish this with far less time and effort, but to emphasize, explore, and unpack the bizarre scene in front of me. I’ve traveled extensively in the United States and have concluded that no other region offers such an abundance of these visually rich scenes as the South does, my home. This seething conglomeration of artistically inspiring subjects is as relentless as the passage of time. Where once there was a vast chasm in my soul where the question “What should I draw?” reverberated against the emptiness, there is now a bed of nutrient-rich soil, bursting with the fruits of tantalizing subjects. They yearn for the immortality that the brush offers, crying out to be selected before they wither upon the vine and are turned under the earth to feed the next crop of unique and wondrous scenes. My stockpile of reference photos I’ve taken of future painting material grows faster than I can capture them on paper and shows no sign of slowing down, especially as the landscape in these United States grows ever more tumultuous by the day. Through my artwork I am constantly asking the same questions: What do I love about my home? What do I despise about it? What is new and different about it? And what hasn’t changed at all since I was knee-high to a grasshopper?