Art as Ritual: From Technique to Transcendence

“Life is not a problem to be solved, but an experience to be had. And so the real secret of life—to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.” — Alan Watts, Just So*

Creating  art is a ritual, it’s my happy place—the space where I feel most alive, and most connected to my inner self and energies of the universe. When I paint, I’m not just making something pretty—I’m opening myself up to unlimed possibilities, and aligning with something much bigger than myself. There’s a rhythm, a natural flow, that moves through me when I work—and I simply follow it in service to the idea.

Over the years, I’ve realized that what makes art meaningful isn’t just the finished piece—it’s the process. The act of painting itself is where the real magic happens. It’s where I enter a flow state, where time dissolves and presence takes over. That process becomes a ritual of devotion, a deeply meditative process, a way of exploring emotions, and a way of connecting to something unseen but deeply felt.

I live paint often, both outdoors at festivals, and in my studio, on camera, via Facebook Live, or Twitch. People watching have told me it's mesmerizing. I think that’s because when you witness someone deeply in their element—whether it's a painter, a chef, a musician, or a woodworker—you’re watching something sacred unfold. There’s grace in their movements, an ease that only comes from showing up again and again, with intention. That’s what elevates the ordinary into something extraordinary. 

I see this kind of artistry everywhere—in skilled bartenders, in scientists explainging their findings,, in musicians strumming their instruments, I tenderly refer to it as "monk mode", and you can see their deep devotion in their work. These people have ritualized their process and the outcomes of whatever their doing reflects that.

My own art practice is rooted in that same kind of quiet reverence. Before I begin, there’s a ritual— selecting and mixing my colors, preparing the space, setting the music to the right vibe and tuning in. That energy seeps into the work. The painting becomes more than paint and canvas—it becomes a living transmission of presence, rhythm, and universal connection.

And that’s what I want my collectors to feel when they bring one of my pieces into their space. You’re not just acquiring a painting—you’re bringing home a piece of that energy. That frequency. That moment of aligment and trancendance, between hand and heart.

Because for me, the real joy is in my daily art making process. The layering of colors and textures, the subtle shifts of light, the brush dancing with intuition—that’s the soul of the work. That’s what makes it powerful, personal, and timeless.

Original art made from this space of ritualized presence carries a resonance you can feel. It holds energy. It holds meaning. And in a world moving faster every day, these sacred moments of quiet intentionality matter more than ever.

So yes—art is my happy place, but it’s also my way of staying attuned to the deeper rhythms of life. It’s a practice of listening, receiving, and honoring the unseen forces that shape our world.

Every brushstroke, every detail, is a small ceremony—an offering of presence in a distracted world.

And every piece I create is a doorway—inviting you to step into that presence, too.