The Humanities of the Marsh: Painting the Tranquil In-Between

Many collectors ask me what draws me back to the same tidal creeks and mountain ridgelines time and time again. To answer that, I often look back at my roots in the Humanities.

In the Humanities, we study the "connective tissue" of the human experience—the stories, philosophies, and shared questions that define us. But for me, the search for those answers always leads back to the landscape. It is in the quiet of the marsh and the stillness of the peaks where I find my most profound connection to God. When I stand before a canvas, I am not just painting a view; I am documenting a conversation with the Creator.

A Search for Stillness

Our modern world is increasingly loud and fragmented. My work in the studio is a deliberate response to that noise. By focusing on "Atmospheric Perspective"—the way light and air soften the distant horizon—I am looking for what I call the Tranquil In-Between.

In the Lowcountry, this happens during the "Blue Hour" or when the morning mist hasn't quite lifted from the spartina grass. In those moments, the landscape feels less like a physical place and more like a spiritual state. It is where the earth meets the heavens, and the presence of God feels remarkably near. I am often reminded of the Psalmists, especially David, who wrote so poignantly about how the majesty of God is vibrantly evident in His handiwork across the natural world. Like the ancient poets, I find that the sky and the sea tell a story of a glory far greater than our own.

The Poetry of the Lowcountry

I believe a painting should act as a visual exhale. My background has taught me that art is at its most powerful when it provides a space for reflection and prayer. This is why you will see a focus on:

• Minimalist Horizons: Giving the eye—and the soul—room to breathe.

• Muted Palettes: Using mineral blues and hazy grays to induce a sense of biological and spiritual calm.

• Vast Scale: Reminding us of the beauty of being small in a grand, divinely ordered world.

Art as an Anchor

When a piece moves from my studio to your home, my hope is that it carries this peace with it. Whether it is a study of a single oyster or a 60-inch marsh landscape, the goal is to provide a "Humanities of the home"—a quiet corner where the chaos of the day falls away, and you are reminded of the steady, unchanging hand of God behind the beauty of the natural world.

I don’t just paint the Lowcountry because it is beautiful; I paint it because it is where I find the answers to the questions my heart is constantly asking.