“Germination”
I spotted the acorn in this painting on a hike on Buffalo Mountain, TN. It wasn’t growing the way it should, not buried in the dirt, but perched on top. Its root was somehow anchored into the soil below. I thought about how resilient it must be that, despite the circumstances, it still managed to grow.
Germination is the moment a dormant seed finally breaks open and begins its long journey into a tree. After enduring a cold winter, its roots dig into the ground and start the slow transformation. I have been fascinated by acorns since I was young. On the playground, I used to collect them and plant them in the ground, hoping that they would someday grow (they never did). My younger self was fascinated by the idea that something small could eventually become huge and mighty.
Today, they teach me the virtue in patience. Many of our desires and dreams do not happen overnight. They need consistent watering to flourish. Eventually, they ask us to outgrow the shells that once kept us safe because some things are not meant to serve us forever. It is a reminder to me that real growth is not sudden, but often agonizingly slow and uncomfortable, yet deeply alive.
oil on repurposed wood panel
16 x 20 in.
2026
“Germination”
I spotted the acorn in this painting on a hike on Buffalo Mountain, TN. It wasn’t growing the way it should, not buried in the dirt, but perched on top. Its root was somehow anchored into the soil below. I thought about how resilient it must be that, despite the circumstances, it still managed to grow.
Germination is the moment a dormant seed finally breaks open and begins its long journey into a tree. After enduring a cold winter, its roots dig into the ground and start the slow transformation. I have been fascinated by acorns since I was young. On the playground, I used to collect them and plant them in the ground, hoping that they would someday grow (they never did). My younger self was fascinated by the idea that something small could eventually become huge and mighty.
Today, they teach me the virtue in patience. Many of our desires and dreams do not happen overnight. They need consistent watering to flourish. Eventually, they ask us to outgrow the shells that once kept us safe because some things are not meant to serve us forever. It is a reminder to me that real growth is not sudden, but often agonizingly slow and uncomfortable, yet deeply alive.
oil on repurposed wood panel
16 x 20 in.
2026