24x24 Acrylic on canvas

Holding on to the Spirit

20x30 mixed media on paper

A tall, stylized human figure stands in profile with their head turned slightly downward or inward. The form is elongated and elegant, reminiscent of the Modigliani-esque tradition with exaggerated neck and posture, conveying grace and introspection.

The most prominent visual focal point is the raised hand, holding a glowing orb of light or energy—symbolic of knowledge, power, or inner illumination. This light is the brightest element, giving the composition an almost divine or mystical quality.

A warm-to-cool transition dominates the canvas. The left side is rich with fiery reds, oranges, and yellows, suggesting passion, spirit, or revelation, while the right side leans toward tranquil blues and greens, hinting at calm, reflection, or healing. Together, they evoke a journey or transformation.

Ethereal layers and energetic scribbles interact across the piece—suggesting both chaos and harmony. There are vertical strokes of white, like descending light or ascending energy, and a floral vine motif on the right margin, which introduces natural growth and organic symbolism.

More about the piece: The word "Eltsopa" in reverse— is a play on the word “Apostle.” This suggest a spiritual mission or identity rooted in delivering messages, healing, or transformation. It’s an intriguing vision that invites further inquiry into the artist's intent.

Title: “Holding Self Down”

Medium: Charcoal

Dimensions: 24×36 inches

This early charcoal work on paper commands attention through its raw emotional intensity and evocative composition. The figure—rendered in a tightly folded, almost fetal position—is drawn with anatomical precision, yet the posture suggests a deep psychological weight. The subject’s bowed head and clasped hands, chained at the wrists, evoke themes of bondage, captivity, and internal struggle.

A vertical seam-like line bisects the canvas, visually and metaphorically dividing the piece. On one side, a deep indigo void swallows the body, while the opposite side blazes in a stark gradient of yellow, orange, and red, echoing a dawn or perhaps a fire—offering ambiguity between hope and destruction. This contrast heightens the tension between confinement and transcendence.

The figure’s head is adorned with what resembles a circular halo—but within it, a slashed zero replaces any divine symbol, suggesting nullification or erased identity. The use of blue highlights in the eyes and ear implies both alertness and disconnection, reinforcing the sense of someone deeply aware yet unheard or unseen.

Though executed in charcoal, the work achieves a painterly richness. Subtle smudging, layering, and controlled aggression with the medium reveal a developing voice—unafraid to merge the physical and the symbolic.

More about the piece:

This piece is more than a portrait of suffering—it’s a confrontation. The body is a vessel of resistance, the chains a metaphor for both historical and personal trauma. For an early work, it signals the artist’s commitment to exploring identity, power, and the spiritual cost of survival. What’s most compelling is the tension between stillness and revolution—silent, but never passive.

Momma Crossing

30x48 mixed media on canvas

Here i've chosen to take an abstract approach 

to my mother crossing over to the other side.

Here i've committed to using various colors such as violets,golds and some earth tones to create a void. furthermore to best illustrate the loosing of a loved one I've taken the arms and legs from the figure not as to dismember but to show the separation between realms. allow your eyes to pan across the painting you will see areas of light and dark, what tends to stand out is the dark purple tones which symbolizes death and the unknown,However coming from the dark you may also notice that beautiful white light that shines on her face representing a new birth or chapter.

“WHY” – Mixed Media on Wood Panel, 48x48

In “WHY,” a standout mixed media work on wood panel measuring 48x48 inches, the artist delivers an unflinching interrogation of trauma, identity, and survival in the urban American experience. As one of the artist’s personal favorites, this piece sears itself into the viewer’s psyche with its explosive layering of symbolism, text, and raw figuration.

At the center sits a graphite-toned, muscular figure—cross-legged and hunched—hands clutching the head in anguish or deep thought. Rendered within a dark circular void, the figure becomes both a focal point and a portal, anchoring the chaos that surrounds it. White paint drips from above like rainfall—or perhaps grief—suggesting both temporal decay and spiritual unrest. This central subject is a portrait of internalized pain and resilience, an emotional nucleus in a world brimming with noise.

The background vibrates with American iconography subverted through the artist's streetwise lens: red-and-white stripes evoke a distorted flag, while collaged fragments of advertisements, graffiti tags, chalk outlines, and phrases like “911”, “NO NAME”, and “Playing to Win” speak to systemic neglect and the commodification of Black and urban lives. The recurring motif of yellow—often associated with caution or hazard—saturates the piece with tension, while the recurring scribbles of “WHY?” pose the ultimate existential and societal challenge.

One section features the word “Food King” layered near the chalk body outline—perhaps a commentary on scarcity, survival, and the ironic abundance of fast food amid poverty. “Deep East” likely refers to East Oakland, grounding the piece in a personal geography of both danger and cultural richness. The inclusion of a solitary red chair and scattered phrases like “has no name” and “anger” invite the viewer to reflect on erased narratives and the enduring search for identity and belonging.

The juxtaposition of mediums—spray paint, collage, charcoal, acrylic—mirrors the layered experience of the subject: fragmented, gritty, vibrant, yet deeply whole. “WHY” is not just a question—it is a scream, a poem, a mural, and a prayer. It is no surprise this work holds personal resonance for the artist; it embodies not just a body, but a world.

Bold, cathartic, and uncompromising, “WHY” stands as both a deeply personal testament and a communal mirror. It demands not only to be viewed but to be felt—and remembered.

Title: Lost Ticket

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Dimensions:

This striking mixed-media painting, titled "Lost Ticket," offers a visceral, politically charged commentary on the fatal shooting of Oscar Grant, a young Black man killed by a BART police officer in Oakland on New Year’s Day, 2009. The piece fuses elements of public signage, portraiture, and protest symbolism to mourn a life taken and indict a justice system that, as the text implies, too often fails the very people it claims to protect.

The composition mimics a BART train ticket — a potent metaphor for transit, access, and disposability. The words “LOST Ticket” dominate the lower half, where the word ticket is handwritten, almost as an afterthought, childlike in tone. This evokes the irreplaceability of life: you can reprint a ticket; you cannot reprint a son.

A portrait of Oscar Grant anchors the right side of the image. His expression is calm, even gentle, in painful contrast to the violent injustice he suffered. The yellow background framing him seems almost to glow—an unspoken halo that elevates him, not just as a victim, but as a symbol of broader systemic grief.

Above the portrait, the name “OSCAR” is written in large, bold letters, as if to reclaim it from headlines and make it personal again. The piece reminds us that Oscar Grant was not just a hashtag or a case file. He was a person.

A critical, graffiti-like text in red scratches out the word “Justice” and replaces it with “Just us!” — a poignant play on words that calls out racial disparities in law enforcement and the courts. It sits underneath a bitter caption: “The Laws has always been about...” The misspelling of “has” might seem incidental, but it adds to the rawness and urgency of the message.

More about the piece:

“Lost Ticket” uses the framework of something forgettable—a transit pass—to spotlight what can never be forgotten: the loss of human life to state violence. The message is clear and devastating: A train ticket can be reissued. A life cannot.For Oscar Grant’s family, the cost is permanent. The painting doesn’t just mourn Oscar; it mourns the everyday loss of young Black men to institutional failure, the numbing repetition of grief, and a legal system that too often feels like it's rigged for "just us" rather than justice.

Title: “67 Wildwood Ave.”

Medium: Mixed Media on Canvas

Dimensions: 48×48 inces

This mixed-media piece evokes a serene landscape at first glance—vivid horizontal blocks of textured white, tranquil turquoise, and earthen tones suggest sky, water, and land. But beneath its minimalist surface lies a deeply charged narrative. At the heart of the work stand five small, uniform houses—four painted white, one black—neatly aligned like silent witnesses or characters in an unresolved drama. Their stark simplicity draws the eye immediately to the black house, a striking center of contrast and isolation.

The texture above—fragmented, fossil-like, and peeling—resembles both the scars of time and the fragility of social veneers. It’s an intentional choice: the surface is literally cracking under the weight of history. Below, the colors become more structured, clean, and modern—perhaps alluding to the suburban idealism of early 20th-century planned communities.

But this is no utopian vision. This is a confrontation.

Interpretation & Historical Context: The Story of Sidney Dearing in Piedmont (1924–1925):

This piece references a haunting chapter in the history of Piedmont, California—a city that branded itself as a “City of Homes,” yet worked systematically to exclude Black residents. In 1924, Sidney Dearing, a successful Black homeowner and entrepreneur, purchased a home in Piedmont with his wife, Irene, through a white proxy since restrictive covenants and social norms of the time aimed to keep Piedmont racially homogenous.

The reaction from the city and its white residents was swift and violent. Dearing and his family faced harassment, threats, and relentless pressure. Despite having every legal right to live there, the city used fear and intimidation to force the family to sell. By 1925, under duress, the Dearings were compelled to leave.

The single black house in the painting is emblematic of Sidney Dearing’s home: conspicuous, centered, and unjustly alienated. Its very presence disrupts the visual harmony—just as Dearing’s presence disrupted the social contract of a white-only enclave, revealing its fragility and intolerance. The surrounding white homes appear almost complicit, boxed in tight formation, unmoved by the tension they create.

This work isn't merely an aesthetic exercise—it’s a challenge. It asks the viewer: What is belonging? Who decides who gets to live where? And more uncomfortably: How far have we really come since 1925?

By juxtaposing clean modernist lines with brutal historical reference, the artist has transformed a minimalist landscape into a quiet indictment of racial exclusion and the whitewashing of American suburbia. The black house does not shout—but it doesn’t have to. Its presence alone is revolutionary.

Title:Critical Race Theory
Medium: Mixed Media on Canvas

Dimensions: 48×48

In Critical Race Theory, I’ve attempted to examine the haunting, almost topographical meditation on the collision of historical narrative and systemic erasure. This stark, minimalist composition speaks volumes through absence and surface tension. The upper third of the canvas is dominated by a dense, uncompromising black — a void that could be read as the weight of suppressed histories, institutional silence, or the obscuring force of dominant ideology. It is a silence so thick, it absorbs all light and inquiry.

Beneath it lies a fractured, pale expanse — an imperfect surface, scarred with hairline cracks, textures, and subtle tonal shifts. It feels as if the ground is attempting to speak, struggling to hold together under the pressure of time and scrutiny. This layer could be interpreted as a metaphor for whiteness — not just as identity, but as constructed narrative — smooth from a distance, but fragile and fissured upon close examination.

The granular, stippled area along the bottom edge emerges like sediment or rot — suggesting buried truths, cultural residue, or marginalized voices pushing back through the surface. It’s a textural rupture — rough, uncomfortable, and necessary — refusing the polished silence above it.

The title, Critical Race Theory, is not decorative; it is declarative. It invites the viewer to interrogate the surface, to question what is made visible and what has been methodically obscured. This work is not about resolution or comfort. Instead, it occupies a powerful space of confrontation — of tension between systemic gloss and individual truth.

In its silence, the piece demands discourse. In its fractured whiteness, it exposes a history not yet reconciled. It is both minimalist and maximalist in meaning — a radical abstraction that dares to be literal.

This is not merely a painting. It is a call to look deeper, and to listen where we have been trained not to hear.

"American Operation"

Medium: Acrylic on Wood Panel

Dementions: 36×26 inches

"American Operation" is a powerful socio-political artwork that co-opts the imagery of the classic board game Operationto dissect the painful history and ongoing wounds of housing discrimination in America. With bright, jarring colors and cartoonish visual language, the piece draws viewers in playfully—only to confront them with a sobering autopsy of racialized economic oppression.

At the center stands a Black figure whose body becomes both battleground and blueprint. Instead of whimsical ailments, the labels inserted into and around the figure mark systemic injustices: "Redline Laws," "Subprime Loan 2010," "Predatory Agreement," and "HOIC - Home Owners' Loan Corporation". These references ground the piece in historical and contemporary realities—charting a lineage of discriminatory housing practices from the 1930s through the 2010s. The result is a visual narrative of cyclical financial trauma passed down through generations.

The substitution of anatomical organs with terms like "Equity" (crossed out), "Generational Wealth", and "Residential Security" serves as a brutal commentary: in this game, these critical assets have been extracted, denied, or surgically removed from Black communities. Even the grading system—"4 Grade: Blue, Green, Yellow, Red"—is a direct nod to the color-coded maps of redlining used to determine mortgage worthiness, reducing entire neighborhoods to data points of discrimination.

By turning the body into a metaphor for the economic dismemberment of Black families, the artist calls attention to how systemic policies have stripped people not just of property, but of promise. The red clown nose—reminiscent of the original game—adds a layer of irony. This isn’t a game. It’s a legacy of violence masquerading as policy.

Visually bold, conceptually sharp, and emotionally charged, American Operation critiques the illusion of fair play in America’s housing and lending systems. It's a searing reminder that the wounds of redlining and financial exploitation are not historical curiosities—they are living, bleeding, and deeply embedded in the American body politic.

Title: "Equestrian Elevation"
Medium: Oil on Round Canvas

At once surreal and sharply contemporary, this arresting oil-on-canvas piece merges the ancient mythos of the centaur with the iconography of modern sport—specifically, basketball. The silhouette of a hybrid figure—a centaur whose human half is caught mid-leap, outstretched and grasping a basketball—feels both primal and urgent, straddling two worlds: the grounded power of the beast and the aspirational lift of the athlete.

The artist makes a deliberate choice in rendering the subject entirely in black against a stark, unblemished backdrop. This high contrast not only sharpens the silhouette but also strips the figure of identity, allowing it to become emblematic—more archetype than individual. The circular canvas further emphasizes unity and timelessness, evoking ancient Greek shields or coins, yet recontextualized in a way that feels strikingly modern.

Title: Untitled (Centaur Portrait)
Medium: Oil on Canvas

In this arresting oil painting, the artist reimagines the mythological centaur with a strikingly modern sensibility. The subject, a Black centaur, stands firmly against a stark blue backdrop, his muscular human torso merging seamlessly into the powerful equine body below. Dressed in a contemporary black tank top, the figure defies traditional classical depictions, offering a fresh, culturally resonant take on an ancient archetype.

The composition is spare, almost meditative, yet deeply commanding. The background’s smooth gradient blue evokes a dreamlike atmosphere, stripping away all distractions and forcing the viewer to confront the centaur’s solitary presence. The lighting is masterful—subtle, moody, and dramatic—casting shadows that chisel the figure’s physique with an almost sculptural intensity. There's a quiet dignity in his stance, a sense of stillness and control that radiates through the canvas.

This painting challenges conventional boundaries—between man and beast, myth and modernity, presence and absence. It invites contemplation on identity, duality, and the intersection of strength and vulnerability. By placing a contemporary Black figure at the center of this mythic form, the work also gestures toward reclamation and empowerment, subtly rewriting the visual language of power and legend.

The brushwork is tight and deliberate, particularly in the rendering of musculature and anatomy, yet it never feels overworked. The earthy tones of the horse’s body contrast beautifully with the stark blue, grounding the surreal subject in visceral realism.

Title: “Grown Folks Blvd”

Medium: Mixed Media

Dimensions: 48×48 inches

This vibrant piece, titled “Grown Folks Blvd,” is a nostalgic homage to the golden era of funk, soul, and R&B—a visual mixtape that doubles as cultural commentary and celebration. The artwork is structured like an oversized 45 vinyl adapter or turntable, centered by a black record and surrounded by color-coded rings that seem to pulse with musical energy. The top boldly proclaims "GROWN FOLKS BLVD," invoking both a literal street sign and a metaphorical journey through the rich musical landscape of classic Black artistry.

From the fiery red edge dominated by James Brown, The Ohio Players, and Parliament, to the cooler green base where Al Green, Earth, Wind & Fire, and The Whispers reside, the color gradient evokes the heart and soul of each artist’s contribution. Names spill across the piece like graffiti on a beloved neighborhood wall—layered, overlapping, chaotic but purposeful. The large-font highlights—Tower of Power, The Floaters, Commodores—anchor the visual hierarchy, acting as sonic landmarks in a sea of influential voices.

Notably, the piece doesn’t just focus on the giants. It invites the viewer to rediscover often-overlooked acts like Kleeer, Candis Fox, and Skyy, giving equal space to those who shaped the rhythm and feeling of an era without always commanding the spotlight.

Two physical elements—what appear to be a cassette deck a 8 track tape and a cassette tape and located above is a cd disc which—adds a tactile, almost interactive quality, reminding us that this was music we didn’t just hear but lived with: rewound, fast-forwarded, played loud at cookouts or softly during late-night rides.

This artwork archive is symbolic of a love letter to an era when music was analog, soul was felt, and "grown folks" knew how to get down. It commands not just to be viewed—but remembered, heard, and honored.