Stories from the Studio

When I started drawing seriously, I didn't pick my palette from a color theory book. I pulled it straight from the world around me — sunsets over the South Dakota plains, the wildflowers along the gravel roads outside Colman, the warm glow of a porch light at dusk.

Red is for energy and bravery. Orange is the in-between — the moment a feeling shifts. Purple is the dreaming color, the one I reach for when an idea is bigger than words. Yellow is joy, plain and simple. Green grounds everything; it's the breath between the louder notes.

Every piece I make uses some combination of these five. It keeps the work feeling like one body, one voice — even when the subjects jump from a sleepy fox to an astronaut to a stylized portrait.

The Adventurous Adventures of Elysis and Elania started as a single drawing — two best friends standing back to back, ready for whatever came next. I did know who they were, because I painted a picture of them first before I wrote the book. That painting is how I came up with the whole story.

Over the next several months, I built their world one page at a time. I wanted the book to feel like the kind of story I would have loved as a kid: bold colors, characters who solve their own problems, and a sense that the next page might take you anywhere.

Illustrating and writing it at the same time was the hardest part. The words pushed the pictures, and the pictures pushed the words back. Holding the finished book for the first time felt like meeting Elysis and Elania in person.

'Vision In My Eyes' started as a melody I kept humming while I was painting. I wasn't trying to write a song — it just kept showing up. Eventually I stopped fighting it and sat down to actually finish the thing.

The lyrics are about seeing what could be before it exists. That's the whole job, whether I'm staring at a blank page or stepping up to a microphone. You have to picture it first.

American Idol is the next big swing. I want to bring this song, and the same energy I put into my artwork, onto a stage where more people can feel it. The dream is loud and specific — and I'm going for it.

Most days start slow. Coffee, a quick look at whatever I left on the desk the night before, and a few minutes of just sitting with the work before I touch it.

Then it's music on, phone away, and into it. I usually have three or four pieces going at once — when one stalls, I move to another. It keeps the momentum up and stops me from over-polishing any single drawing.

By evening I'm tired in the best way. The studio is a mess, the playlist is on its third loop, and there's something on the desk that wasn't there this morning. That's the whole goal.