My paintings live in the gap between a postcard and a memory. They're small studies of moments most people walk past without noticing: a parked car under a streetlight, a corner store at closing time, fog catching on a row of houses. I'm drawn to scale that fits in your hand, work that asks to be held rather than just looked at.

That instinct is also what led me to start the Postcard Club, a project where I paint and mail original postcards to subscribers every month. It's grown to over a hundred members across five countries now, each one getting a small handmade piece of San Francisco in their actual mailbox. Realism, for me, isn't about precision so much as attention, and the Club is really an extension of that same idea: slowing down enough to notice a place, then sending that noticing somewhere far away.