Saltlight

When I painted this piece, I wasn’t just trying to capture an eye—I was trying to see through it. To me, the human eye can be perceived as a gateway, not just to the soul, but to memory, ancestry, and the world’s wild, untamed beauty. I layered the iris with deep browns, blues, and greens not simply for aesthetics, but because these are the colors of the earth and sea—elements that live inside me. The details are meticulous, reflecting ocean waves, refracted light, and the mystery of inner depth. Around the eye, I allowed the boundaries to dissolve, letting skin melt into abstract textures, warm ochres bleeding into ceruleans and emeralds, as if the spirit itself was surfacing from beneath the skin.

The lower half of the painting is where everything began to shift—where imagination poured in like tidewater. I painted stylized waves in deep, crashing blues, each one echoing the curve of the eye above it. It was a meditation on how vision itself is fluid, and how grief, memory, and longing swell and recede like the sea. The eye is not crying, but it holds the memory of every wave that’s ever broken. The lashes are long, dark, and defined, anchoring the realism in a storm of abstraction. Somehow, this eye sees more than the present—it holds the sacred past, the shifting now, and something still arriving on the horizon.

Saltlight

There is no edge to this seeing—
vision becomes a tidepool of time,
where wavelight and wonder collide,
irises open like a sunken gate
to what was carried, and what remains—
salt clinging to the bones of memory.

Blues not just of oceans, but of breath,
of prayers spoken through generations,
threaded in storm and calm alike.
The sea does not forget—it shapes
the shape of the eye itself,
curved like longing returning.

Skin gives way to something more—
not flesh, not merely hue,
but echo—ochre dreaming in azure,
a geography of spirit surfacing,
as if the body remembers
what language never could.

Beneath the gaze, waves rise—
not tears, but testament,
to how beauty breaks and remakes.
Every crest a held silence,
every swell a name unsaid
but sung in the marrow.

This is how the ancestors arrive—
through water, through light fractured
by the firmament of grief and hope.
The lashes do not shield—they gather
what the soul cannot release,
a net for the sacred undone.

Saltlight is not sorrow. It is return.
It is the horizon caught in an eye,
the shimmer between presence and becoming.
What we see is not illusion—
it is a deep remembering
wearing the shape of vision.

Prices are in USD $

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in
48in x 48in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in
48in x 48in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in
48in x 48in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in
48in x 48in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in
48in x 48in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in
48in x 48in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in
42in x 42in

12in x 12in
16in x 16in
20in x 20in
24in x 24in
30in x 30in
36in x 36in