Death of an Artist was meant to be the final chapter of my artistic life. I thought I was writing an ending. Instead, I found myself writing the first chapter of a much bigger story.
Along the way, I kept asking questions that wouldn't leave me alone. Why was I trying to put my artistic life to rest? Why did the part of me that felt most authentic seem like the thing I needed to bury?
What began as a retirement show became an exhibition about ending an old way of being—stepping out of secrecy, letting go of old beliefs, and no longer building other people's dreams at the expense of my own.
For years I believed almost anything was possible for everyone else. I just wasn't convinced it was possible for me.
In the end, Death of an Artist wasn't about the death of an artist at all. It was about putting to rest everything that no longer belonged in my life so I could finally begin telling my own story, on my own terms.
Looking back, I realized my younger self hadn't failed me—he had sacrificed so I could get here.
That realization became my wake-up call.
You can't unknow what you've finally seen.
The Wake-Up Call picks up where Death of an Artist ends. Once I accepted that my artistic life wasn't over, I couldn't go back to living the way I had before. The hard part wasn't waking up. The hard part was deciding what to do once I was awake.
This chapter is about reinvention. About choosing to stop living numb. About recognizing that change isn't a single moment—it's a decision you make over and over again.
Through collage, paint, and handwritten fragments, these works explore the stories we tell ourselves, the trade-offs we accept, and the identities we carry long after they've stopped serving us. They aren't meant to provide answers. They're meant to hold up a mirror.
The paintings reflect my questions, not my conclusions. What you see in them is yours to decide.
For me, The Wake-Up Call was the moment I stopped waiting for permission to become the person I'd been avoiding all along.
Choosing yourself doesn't make life easier. It makes it real.
Breathing Isn;t (sic) Easy begins after the awakening. Once you've chosen a different life, there's no going back—but that doesn't mean the path gets easier.
This chapter is about what comes next. Living with uncertainty. Feeling everything you spent years trying to ignore. Accepting that freedom comes with vulnerability, responsibility, disappointment, beauty, humour, and hope.
Every piece begins as a handwritten note before becoming paint, paper, collage, and story. Together, they explore the cost of becoming more fully yourself and the strange courage it takes to keep moving forward, even when the air feels thin.
The spelling matters. Breathing Isn;t (sic) Easy isn't a mistake to be corrected. It's a reminder that life isn't polished, people aren't perfect, and neither is the work.
This chapter isn't about finding easy answers. It's about choosing to keep breathing, keep creating, and keep becoming.