The Work

Limited Edition

Night Watch

A cat holds its post on the couch, silhouetted against the deep blue of evening windows. Warm light bleeds through from somewhere beyond — a neighbor's room, a streetlamp, another life happening in parallel. Tiger and leopard print pillows anchor the foreground, a quiet nod to something wilder living inside domestic comfort.\n\nThere's a discipline to stillness. Anyone who's pulled a night watch knows it — the world goes quiet, and you see things differently. This painting lives in that space between alert and at ease, where the familiar becomes something worth studying.

$120 Edition of 25

Open Edition

Last Light

A dog rests its weight against a stone balustrade, watching the last band of color drain from the horizon. The ocean and sky are almost indistinguishable — just that thin seam of orange holding the two apart. A column stands behind like a pillar of something permanent while everything else fades.\n\nLast light is a military term — the moment the sun drops below the horizon, when the rules of engagement shift. It's the boundary between what you can see and what you have to trust. This painting sits right on that line. Loyalty, patience, the quiet act of staying present while the day ends — some things don't need orders.

$45

Open Edition

Liberty Call

A dog tears across the flats at full stride, reflected perfectly in the wet sand below — two of them now, running between a burning horizon and the weight of a dark headland. The whole sky is mirrored at its feet. There's nobody else out here.\n\nLiberty call is what they announce when you're free to go ashore. After weeks of structure, routine, every hour accounted for — suddenly the leash is off and the world opens up. You don't walk. You run. This photo is that exact moment: the unreasonable joy of open space when you've earned it.

$35

Original

Landfall

A city burns gold across a razor-thin horizon — the only thing separating two voids of dark water and darker sky. Searchlight beams cut upward at angles, slicing through the night like signals meant for someone still out there. An amber glow bleeds in from the left edge, close and warm against everything distant.\n\nLandfall is the first sight of shore after open water. You've been staring at nothing for days, and then — there it is. A line of light that means solid ground, warm food, people. This painting holds that distance. You're not there yet. You're still on the water, watching it glow, knowing it's close enough to see but not close enough to touch. Every deployment has this moment.

$850

Limited Edition

Bivouac

A single flame on an empty beach, and the whole sky for a ceiling. Driftwood, sand, stars through thin cloud cover, the white edge of surf barely holding the line between land and ocean. A faint glow on the far horizon says civilization is out there somewhere. But not here.\n\nA bivouac is a temporary camp — no tents, no walls, just you and whatever ground you've got. You build a small fire, not for warmth really, but because it gives the darkness a center. The military teaches you that comfort is portable. A few square feet of firelight on a beach at night is more than enough. Sometimes it's everything.

$160 Edition of 50

Open Edition

Stand Down

A figure in heavy gear, curled toward a small teepee fire on open ground. Eyes closed. One hand tucked in, the other resting loose. The fire throws a circle of gold onto churned-up earth — beyond it, nothing but dark. Another shape barely registers in the background, already gone under.\n\nStand down is the order that means it's over — for now. The watch is someone else's problem. You find ground that's flat enough, build a fire from whatever's around, and you're out. No pillow, no mattress, no walls. Just warmth and the trust that somebody's got your back while you disappear for a few hours. This painting is about earned rest — the kind that only comes after you've used everything you have.

$55