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Chris Simon, The Artist
Chris Simon has been an artist since the age of six, when his mother first nurtured his creativity by encouraging his work and even framing and selling his early pieces at local events. That early exposure sparked a lifelong passion for art and expression.
He continued developing his craft through programs like TWIGS at the Baltimore School for the Arts, but more importantly, carried creativity into everything he built. From restaurants and real estate development to marketing and experiential concepts, Chris has always approached life as an artist, the medium has simply evolved.
In recent years, after strong interest in the personal pieces displayed in his own spaces, Chris began producing work more intentionally and sharing it publicly. His work has been featured at Bazile in Miami in 2025, and most recently through his first solo exhibition at the Baltimore Museum of Art as part of CREAM.
His style is rooted in emotion and perspective rather than technical perfection. By leaving space and limiting detail, Chris invites the viewer to see themselves within each piece, creating a deeper, more personal connection.
As both an artist and collector, he is excited to continue sharing his work and using art as a way to inspire, reflect, and connect.
CREAM Exhibit
Trauma, Transformation, and Triumph
Trauma, Transformation, and Triumph is a deeply personal and reflective body of work by Chris Simon, exploring the journey of lived experiences and the evolution of self. Through a series of emotionally driven pieces, the exhibit invites viewers to confront, process, and ultimately find meaning within the moments that shape us.
Trauma
This section reflects the realities of pain, hardship, and lived experiences that leave lasting impressions. It captures moments that are often difficult to express, highlighting the weight of personal and collective struggles while creating space for acknowledgment and understanding.
Dear Mama
48(H)x60(w)
SOLD
“Dear Mama” captures a moment of pride, love, and foundation. The image reflects a childhood memory, my mother holding me close during an elementary school awards ceremony, a moment that, at the time, felt simple but now carries profound weight.
This piece sits within the Trauma section not because of the memory itself, but because of the loss that reshaped its meaning. In August 2025, my mother passed away. That loss created a void that reframed moments like this, turning them into emotional anchors, reminders of who she was, what she poured into me, and the foundation she helped build.
My mother was my introduction to both art and entrepreneurship. She saw something in me early, celebrated it, and nurtured it. This piece is a reflection of that belief, her pride, her presence, and her influence.
The title draws inspiration from Dear Mama by Tupac Shakur, a tribute that honors the complexity, sacrifice, and unconditional love of a mother. In that same spirit, this painting is both remembrance and gratitude.
Though rooted in trauma, this piece is equally about appreciation. It is a thank you. It is recognition. It is love, preserved in a moment.
Dear Mama, you are appreciated.
SOLD
“Dear Mama” captures a moment of pride, love, and foundation. The image reflects a childhood memory, my mother holding me close during an elementary school awards ceremony, a moment that, at the time, felt simple but now carries profound weight.
This piece sits within the Trauma section not because of the memory itself, but because of the loss that reshaped its meaning. In August 2025, my mother passed away. That loss created a void that reframed moments like this, turning them into emotional anchors, reminders of who she was, what she poured into me, and the foundation she helped build.
My mother was my introduction to both art and entrepreneurship. She saw something in me early, celebrated it, and nurtured it. This piece is a reflection of that belief, her pride, her presence, and her influence.
The title draws inspiration from Dear Mama by Tupac Shakur, a tribute that honors the complexity, sacrifice, and unconditional love of a mother. In that same spirit, this painting is both remembrance and gratitude.
Though rooted in trauma, this piece is equally about appreciation. It is a thank you. It is recognition. It is love, preserved in a moment.
Dear Mama, you are appreciated.
Thirst Trap
72(H)x60(w)
SOLD
“Thirst Trap” is a deliberate play on words, challenging the way language and lived experience intersect. In popular culture, a “thirst trap” is often associated with seeking attention, desire, or validation. This piece reframes that idea entirely.
The painting captures a young girl drinking from an open fire hydrant, a familiar scene rooted in childhood for many who grew up in urban environments. On the surface, it evokes nostalgia, hot summer days, laughter, freedom, and the feeling of being outside from morning until night. But beneath that memory is a deeper reality.
The “trap” speaks to the environment, the hood, spaces often defined by limited resources and systemic neglect. The “thirst” is not metaphorical, it is real. It reflects moments where basic needs, like access to water, were inconsistent, and improvisation became normal. Drinking from a fire hydrant was not just play, it was, at times, necessity.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it highlights what is often overlooked, normalized hardship. Conditions that should be questioned are instead remembered as tradition, even joy. It forces the viewer to sit in that tension, between innocence and survival, between nostalgia and neglect.
“Thirst Trap” is a reflection of how trauma can be disguised as culture, how survival becomes memory, and how what we laugh about often carries a deeper truth.
SOLD
“Thirst Trap” is a deliberate play on words, challenging the way language and lived experience intersect. In popular culture, a “thirst trap” is often associated with seeking attention, desire, or validation. This piece reframes that idea entirely.
The painting captures a young girl drinking from an open fire hydrant, a familiar scene rooted in childhood for many who grew up in urban environments. On the surface, it evokes nostalgia, hot summer days, laughter, freedom, and the feeling of being outside from morning until night. But beneath that memory is a deeper reality.
The “trap” speaks to the environment, the hood, spaces often defined by limited resources and systemic neglect. The “thirst” is not metaphorical, it is real. It reflects moments where basic needs, like access to water, were inconsistent, and improvisation became normal. Drinking from a fire hydrant was not just play, it was, at times, necessity.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it highlights what is often overlooked, normalized hardship. Conditions that should be questioned are instead remembered as tradition, even joy. It forces the viewer to sit in that tension, between innocence and survival, between nostalgia and neglect.
“Thirst Trap” is a reflection of how trauma can be disguised as culture, how survival becomes memory, and how what we laugh about often carries a deeper truth.
Young Tre
48(H)x48(w)
“Young Tre” captures a face the world came to know, but should have never had to.
This piece reflects Trayvon Martin as he was, young, full of life, and simply existing. The image references the widely recognized photograph of him in his red Hollister shirt, a reminder that before he became a symbol, he was a son, a brother, a child.
On February 26, 2012, Trayvon Martin, a 17-year-old unarmed Black teenager, was walking back from a convenience store in a gated community in Sanford, Florida, when he was followed by a neighborhood watch volunteer, George Zimmerman, who deemed him “suspicious.”
That interaction led to a confrontation, and ultimately, Trayvon was shot and killed. He was doing nothing more than walking home.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because the weight of that moment extends far beyond a single incident. Trayvon’s death was not isolated. It exposed a deeper reality, one where perception, fear, and bias can turn everyday existence into a life-threatening situation.
What makes this piece personal is the undeniable truth that Trayvon could be anyone. A son. A brother. Someone I love. Someone you love.
It speaks to a pattern that has continued over time, where Black lives are too often lost in encounters with individuals in positions of authority or those emboldened by systems that fail to hold them accountable. Laws, structures, and narratives have, at times, provided protection for those responsible, while families are left to carry the grief.
“Young Tre” is not just a portrait. It is a confrontation.
It asks the viewer to see him fully, not as a headline, not as a case, but as a human being whose life was taken too soon.
And in that recognition, it asks a harder question, how many more?
“Young Tre” captures a face the world came to know, but should have never had to.
This piece reflects Trayvon Martin as he was, young, full of life, and simply existing. The image references the widely recognized photograph of him in his red Hollister shirt, a reminder that before he became a symbol, he was a son, a brother, a child.
On February 26, 2012, Trayvon Martin, a 17-year-old unarmed Black teenager, was walking back from a convenience store in a gated community in Sanford, Florida, when he was followed by a neighborhood watch volunteer, George Zimmerman, who deemed him “suspicious.”
That interaction led to a confrontation, and ultimately, Trayvon was shot and killed. He was doing nothing more than walking home.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because the weight of that moment extends far beyond a single incident. Trayvon’s death was not isolated. It exposed a deeper reality, one where perception, fear, and bias can turn everyday existence into a life-threatening situation.
What makes this piece personal is the undeniable truth that Trayvon could be anyone. A son. A brother. Someone I love. Someone you love.
It speaks to a pattern that has continued over time, where Black lives are too often lost in encounters with individuals in positions of authority or those emboldened by systems that fail to hold them accountable. Laws, structures, and narratives have, at times, provided protection for those responsible, while families are left to carry the grief.
“Young Tre” is not just a portrait. It is a confrontation.
It asks the viewer to see him fully, not as a headline, not as a case, but as a human being whose life was taken too soon.
And in that recognition, it asks a harder question, how many more?
Brotha From a Different Mother
60(H)x72(w)
“Brotha From a Different Mother” explores the depth of connection, solidarity, and shared humanity across lines that have historically divided us.
The painting depicts three Black women standing hand in hand in protest, holding a sign that reads “Civil Rights for All.” Alongside them stands a white man, joined in unity, choosing to stand, protect, and advocate rather than remain comfortable in distance.
Set during the Civil Rights Movement, this piece reflects a time when equality was not given, it was fought for. A period marked by injustice, sacrifice, and resilience, where many endured violence and loss in the pursuit of basic human rights.
“Brotha From a Different Mother” is a reminder that while trauma can divide, it can also reveal connection. It shows that true brotherhood and sisterhood are not defined by origin, but by action, by who stands with you, speaks for you, and fights alongside you when it matters most.
“Brotha From a Different Mother” explores the depth of connection, solidarity, and shared humanity across lines that have historically divided us.
The painting depicts three Black women standing hand in hand in protest, holding a sign that reads “Civil Rights for All.” Alongside them stands a white man, joined in unity, choosing to stand, protect, and advocate rather than remain comfortable in distance.
Set during the Civil Rights Movement, this piece reflects a time when equality was not given, it was fought for. A period marked by injustice, sacrifice, and resilience, where many endured violence and loss in the pursuit of basic human rights.
“Brotha From a Different Mother” is a reminder that while trauma can divide, it can also reveal connection. It shows that true brotherhood and sisterhood are not defined by origin, but by action, by who stands with you, speaks for you, and fights alongside you when it matters most.
Don’t Shoot the Messenger
48(H)x60(w)
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” reflects the life and legacy of Fred Hampton, the chairman of the Chicago chapter of the Black Panther Party.
Hampton was a powerful leader and organizer who dedicated his life to uplifting Black communities. He led initiatives such as free breakfast programs for children, community health efforts, and built coalitions across racial and social lines, uniting people around a shared fight for justice and equality.
At just 21 years old, he was assassinated during a police raid, a moment that remains one of the most devastating and controversial acts of that era.
The title, “Don’t Shoot the Messenger,” operates on multiple levels. Hampton was a messenger in the truest sense, using his voice to speak on injustice, inequality, and the need for systemic change. His assassination reflects the danger that can come with delivering truth that challenges power.
At the same time, the phrase speaks to a broader human tendency. When confronted with uncomfortable truths, people often direct their anger toward the person delivering the message rather than addressing the reality itself.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it captures both the personal and collective loss of a leader, and the enduring tension between truth and acceptance.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” is a reminder that truth should be confronted, not silenced, and that those who speak it should not be met with violence, but with reflection.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” reflects the life and legacy of Fred Hampton, the chairman of the Chicago chapter of the Black Panther Party.
Hampton was a powerful leader and organizer who dedicated his life to uplifting Black communities. He led initiatives such as free breakfast programs for children, community health efforts, and built coalitions across racial and social lines, uniting people around a shared fight for justice and equality.
At just 21 years old, he was assassinated during a police raid, a moment that remains one of the most devastating and controversial acts of that era.
The title, “Don’t Shoot the Messenger,” operates on multiple levels. Hampton was a messenger in the truest sense, using his voice to speak on injustice, inequality, and the need for systemic change. His assassination reflects the danger that can come with delivering truth that challenges power.
At the same time, the phrase speaks to a broader human tendency. When confronted with uncomfortable truths, people often direct their anger toward the person delivering the message rather than addressing the reality itself.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it captures both the personal and collective loss of a leader, and the enduring tension between truth and acceptance.
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” is a reminder that truth should be confronted, not silenced, and that those who speak it should not be met with violence, but with reflection.
Cousins First
48(H)x60(w)
SOLD
“Cousins First” captures the innocence of childhood, three cousins standing together in their swimwear, surrounded by the simplicity of summer days and shared memories. It reflects a time when life felt easy, where joy was found in being present, outside, together.
Beneath that nostalgia is a deeper, more personal story. The cousin in the red shorts represents not only family, but also a close friend, Kevin “KB” Braswell, whose life and journey left a lasting impact. KB rose to become an elite basketball player at Georgetown University and went on to play professionally, later transitioning into coaching at the international level. His recent passing adds weight to this moment, transforming it from memory into tribute.
The title, “Cousins First,” flips a familiar phrase. While we often say “first cousins,” this piece emphasizes something deeper, that before anything else, before titles, distance, or time, there is family.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it reflects how loss reshapes memory. What once felt like a simple moment now carries the weight of absence, love, and remembrance.
“Cousins First” is a reminder that no matter where life takes us, and no matter what we lose along the way, those bonds remain. Family, first.
SOLD
“Cousins First” captures the innocence of childhood, three cousins standing together in their swimwear, surrounded by the simplicity of summer days and shared memories. It reflects a time when life felt easy, where joy was found in being present, outside, together.
Beneath that nostalgia is a deeper, more personal story. The cousin in the red shorts represents not only family, but also a close friend, Kevin “KB” Braswell, whose life and journey left a lasting impact. KB rose to become an elite basketball player at Georgetown University and went on to play professionally, later transitioning into coaching at the international level. His recent passing adds weight to this moment, transforming it from memory into tribute.
The title, “Cousins First,” flips a familiar phrase. While we often say “first cousins,” this piece emphasizes something deeper, that before anything else, before titles, distance, or time, there is family.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it reflects how loss reshapes memory. What once felt like a simple moment now carries the weight of absence, love, and remembrance.
“Cousins First” is a reminder that no matter where life takes us, and no matter what we lose along the way, those bonds remain. Family, first.
Man Up
48(H)x36(w)
“Man Up” captures a young man in a moment of overwhelm, hands on his head, consumed by stress, confusion, and the weight of everything happening in his mind. The red background intensifies the emotion, symbolizing pressure, urgency, and internal conflict.
This piece speaks to a familiar phrase, often heard but rarely questioned. “Man up.” A statement frequently directed at young men, particularly in Black families and communities, when facing pain, stress, or emotional hardship.
Instead of being given space to process, to speak, or to feel, they are often taught to suppress. Vulnerability is replaced with silence. Emotion is replaced with endurance.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it reflects the normalization of that experience. The reality that many grow up carrying emotional weight without access to support, without tools to process it, and without permission to express it.
“Man Up” is a confrontation of that cycle. It challenges the idea that strength is silence, and instead asks, what if strength is honesty?
It is a reminder that unspoken pain does not disappear, it builds. And that true healing begins when we create space to feel, to speak, and to be understood.
“Man Up” captures a young man in a moment of overwhelm, hands on his head, consumed by stress, confusion, and the weight of everything happening in his mind. The red background intensifies the emotion, symbolizing pressure, urgency, and internal conflict.
This piece speaks to a familiar phrase, often heard but rarely questioned. “Man up.” A statement frequently directed at young men, particularly in Black families and communities, when facing pain, stress, or emotional hardship.
Instead of being given space to process, to speak, or to feel, they are often taught to suppress. Vulnerability is replaced with silence. Emotion is replaced with endurance.
This piece lives in the Trauma section because it reflects the normalization of that experience. The reality that many grow up carrying emotional weight without access to support, without tools to process it, and without permission to express it.
“Man Up” is a confrontation of that cycle. It challenges the idea that strength is silence, and instead asks, what if strength is honesty?
It is a reminder that unspoken pain does not disappear, it builds. And that true healing begins when we create space to feel, to speak, and to be understood.
Transformation
Transformation represents the in-between, the growth that happens through reflection, learning, and healing. These pieces explore pivotal life moments, shifts in perspective, and the internal work required to evolve into a new version of oneself.
We Got Next
60(H)x48(w)
“We Got Next” captures a familiar moment, two young boys at a basketball court, watching the game unfold as they wait on the sidelines. One sits on a basketball, the other stands close by, both locked in, studying, anticipating, preparing.
In basketball culture, the phrase “we got next” is a declaration. It means your turn is coming. You may not be in the game yet, you may not be chosen first, but you’re claiming your opportunity before it arrives.
At that age, they are likely overlooked, too young, not yet proven, still waiting their turn behind older, more experienced players. But the mindset is already forming.
Beyond the court, this piece speaks to aspiration. It reflects the hunger to be seen, to be taken seriously, and to earn a place in the game, not just in basketball, but in life, career, and opportunity. It captures the moment before transformation, when belief is all you have, and potential is still waiting to be realized.
“We Got Next” is about preparation meeting opportunity. It’s about the confidence to claim your moment before the world gives it to you.
Because when your time comes, it’s not just about getting in the game, it’s about proving you belong and making sure you never get overlooked again.
“We Got Next” captures a familiar moment, two young boys at a basketball court, watching the game unfold as they wait on the sidelines. One sits on a basketball, the other stands close by, both locked in, studying, anticipating, preparing.
In basketball culture, the phrase “we got next” is a declaration. It means your turn is coming. You may not be in the game yet, you may not be chosen first, but you’re claiming your opportunity before it arrives.
At that age, they are likely overlooked, too young, not yet proven, still waiting their turn behind older, more experienced players. But the mindset is already forming.
Beyond the court, this piece speaks to aspiration. It reflects the hunger to be seen, to be taken seriously, and to earn a place in the game, not just in basketball, but in life, career, and opportunity. It captures the moment before transformation, when belief is all you have, and potential is still waiting to be realized.
“We Got Next” is about preparation meeting opportunity. It’s about the confidence to claim your moment before the world gives it to you.
Because when your time comes, it’s not just about getting in the game, it’s about proving you belong and making sure you never get overlooked again.
On The Stoop
72(H)x60(w)
SOLD
“On The Stoop” captures a quiet, meaningful moment, a father sitting with his two children on the steps of a home in Baltimore, fully present and taking it all in.
His young son sits inside a classic Flintstones-style toy car, while his daughter leans against it, pausing from pushing him around. It’s a scene rooted in nostalgia, a reminder of childhood simplicity, where imagination and movement were powered by someone else’s care. Before independence, there was guidance. Before motion, there was support.
But beneath that moment is transformation.
This piece reflects a pivotal shift, from being a father of one to a father of two. With that shift came a deeper sense of responsibility, to provide, to protect, and to build a life that could carry them forward. The image becomes more than a memory, it becomes a marker of growth, discipline, and purpose.
The stoop, often a place of pause, becomes symbolic here. A space between where you were and where you’re going.
“On The Stoop” is about embracing that transition. It’s about understanding that the weight of responsibility can also be the fuel for evolution.
Because in that moment, sitting still, everything was moving forward.
SOLD
“On The Stoop” captures a quiet, meaningful moment, a father sitting with his two children on the steps of a home in Baltimore, fully present and taking it all in.
His young son sits inside a classic Flintstones-style toy car, while his daughter leans against it, pausing from pushing him around. It’s a scene rooted in nostalgia, a reminder of childhood simplicity, where imagination and movement were powered by someone else’s care. Before independence, there was guidance. Before motion, there was support.
But beneath that moment is transformation.
This piece reflects a pivotal shift, from being a father of one to a father of two. With that shift came a deeper sense of responsibility, to provide, to protect, and to build a life that could carry them forward. The image becomes more than a memory, it becomes a marker of growth, discipline, and purpose.
The stoop, often a place of pause, becomes symbolic here. A space between where you were and where you’re going.
“On The Stoop” is about embracing that transition. It’s about understanding that the weight of responsibility can also be the fuel for evolution.
Because in that moment, sitting still, everything was moving forward.
Teach a Man to Fish
72(H)x60(w)
SOLD
“Teach a Man to Fish” captures the image of my grandfather, standing with a fish in each hand, a quiet but powerful symbol of provision, resilience, and self-reliance.
Raised in the South, my grandfather learned early that survival required action. Whether it was providing financially or putting food on the table, he understood that waiting was not an option, you had to go out and get it for yourself.
This piece builds on the timeless principle: teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. It speaks to the value of knowledge, discipline, and skill, things that cannot be taken away once they are learned.
More than a portrait, this is a reflection of legacy. The lessons my grandfather passed down, hard work, respect, dedication, integrity, became tools that shaped not only who I am, but how I move through the world.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it represents the transfer of wisdom, the kind that turns survival into sustainability, and effort into generational impact.
“Teach a Man to Fish” is a reminder that true wealth isn’t just what you’re given, it’s what you’re taught, and what you carry forward.
SOLD
“Teach a Man to Fish” captures the image of my grandfather, standing with a fish in each hand, a quiet but powerful symbol of provision, resilience, and self-reliance.
Raised in the South, my grandfather learned early that survival required action. Whether it was providing financially or putting food on the table, he understood that waiting was not an option, you had to go out and get it for yourself.
This piece builds on the timeless principle: teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. It speaks to the value of knowledge, discipline, and skill, things that cannot be taken away once they are learned.
More than a portrait, this is a reflection of legacy. The lessons my grandfather passed down, hard work, respect, dedication, integrity, became tools that shaped not only who I am, but how I move through the world.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it represents the transfer of wisdom, the kind that turns survival into sustainability, and effort into generational impact.
“Teach a Man to Fish” is a reminder that true wealth isn’t just what you’re given, it’s what you’re taught, and what you carry forward.
The Gray Area
72(H)x60(w)
“The Gray Area” depicts three Black baseball players wearing the uniforms of the Homestead Grays, one of the most dominant teams in the Negro leagues.
These leagues existed because Black players were not allowed to participate in Major League Baseball. Despite their talent, excellence, and impact on the game, they were forced into a separate system, one that thrived within the community but was excluded from the broader stage.
The title operates on multiple levels. Visually, the gray background anchors the piece. Symbolically, the “gray area” represents the space in between, the undefined, the overlooked, where individuals exist when they are not fully accepted into what is considered “mainstream.”
In a world often framed as black or white, included or excluded, these players lived in that in-between space. Good enough to dominate, but not accepted enough to belong.
Yet, this piece lives in the Transformation section because their excellence could not be ignored. Their talent, discipline, and impact helped break barriers, contributing to the eventual integration of Black players into Major League Baseball.
“The Gray Area” is a reminder that even when placed in the margins, greatness has the power to redefine the system, turning exclusion into evolution, and paving the way for those who come next.
“The Gray Area” depicts three Black baseball players wearing the uniforms of the Homestead Grays, one of the most dominant teams in the Negro leagues.
These leagues existed because Black players were not allowed to participate in Major League Baseball. Despite their talent, excellence, and impact on the game, they were forced into a separate system, one that thrived within the community but was excluded from the broader stage.
The title operates on multiple levels. Visually, the gray background anchors the piece. Symbolically, the “gray area” represents the space in between, the undefined, the overlooked, where individuals exist when they are not fully accepted into what is considered “mainstream.”
In a world often framed as black or white, included or excluded, these players lived in that in-between space. Good enough to dominate, but not accepted enough to belong.
Yet, this piece lives in the Transformation section because their excellence could not be ignored. Their talent, discipline, and impact helped break barriers, contributing to the eventual integration of Black players into Major League Baseball.
“The Gray Area” is a reminder that even when placed in the margins, greatness has the power to redefine the system, turning exclusion into evolution, and paving the way for those who come next.
Rock Box
72(H)x48(w)
“Rock Box” captures a moment rooted in the early days of hip-hop, three young boys standing together, one holding a boom box, the heartbeat of the culture at the time.
Before streaming, before digital, music lived in cassette tapes and traveled through speakers carried on shoulders. The boom box was more than a device, it was identity, expression, and connection. It brought people together, turned sidewalks into stages, and gave voice to a generation.
The title references Rock Box by Run-DMC, a record that helped redefine what hip-hop could be. By blending rap with rock elements, it broke barriers and expanded the genre’s reach, introducing hip-hop to broader audiences and helping legitimize it on a global scale.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it reflects a cultural shift. What started as a localized expression of creativity in urban communities evolved into a dominant global force in music and culture.
“Rock Box” is a reminder that innovation often begins in overlooked spaces, and that what is once underground can transform into something that shapes the world.
“Rock Box” captures a moment rooted in the early days of hip-hop, three young boys standing together, one holding a boom box, the heartbeat of the culture at the time.
Before streaming, before digital, music lived in cassette tapes and traveled through speakers carried on shoulders. The boom box was more than a device, it was identity, expression, and connection. It brought people together, turned sidewalks into stages, and gave voice to a generation.
The title references Rock Box by Run-DMC, a record that helped redefine what hip-hop could be. By blending rap with rock elements, it broke barriers and expanded the genre’s reach, introducing hip-hop to broader audiences and helping legitimize it on a global scale.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it reflects a cultural shift. What started as a localized expression of creativity in urban communities evolved into a dominant global force in music and culture.
“Rock Box” is a reminder that innovation often begins in overlooked spaces, and that what is once underground can transform into something that shapes the world.
Prim and Proper
36(H)x48(w)
“Prim and Proper” captures three young girls seated together, dressed in white dresses, ruffled socks, and formal black flats, their posture composed, their presence intentional. Legs crossed, hands placed neatly, they reflect a standard of discipline, grace, and expectation.
This piece speaks to the influence of upbringing, the quiet but powerful role of mothers and elder women who instilled values of presentation, respect, and self-awareness at an early age. These lessons went beyond appearance, they were about how to carry oneself in the world.
What may seem like simple structure is, in many ways, preparation. A foundation being set. A shaping of identity before life fully unfolds.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it represents the early molding of character, the intentional development of discipline, poise, and confidence that young girls carry with them into womanhood.
“Prim and Proper” is a reminder that transformation often begins in the smallest moments, in the guidance we receive, the standards we’re held to, and the way we’re taught to show up long before we understand why it matters.
“Prim and Proper” captures three young girls seated together, dressed in white dresses, ruffled socks, and formal black flats, their posture composed, their presence intentional. Legs crossed, hands placed neatly, they reflect a standard of discipline, grace, and expectation.
This piece speaks to the influence of upbringing, the quiet but powerful role of mothers and elder women who instilled values of presentation, respect, and self-awareness at an early age. These lessons went beyond appearance, they were about how to carry oneself in the world.
What may seem like simple structure is, in many ways, preparation. A foundation being set. A shaping of identity before life fully unfolds.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it represents the early molding of character, the intentional development of discipline, poise, and confidence that young girls carry with them into womanhood.
“Prim and Proper” is a reminder that transformation often begins in the smallest moments, in the guidance we receive, the standards we’re held to, and the way we’re taught to show up long before we understand why it matters.
Double Up
48(H)x60(w)
“Double Up” captures three young girls playing double Dutch, two swinging the ropes while one jumps in rhythm at the center. Set against an orange backdrop reminiscent of a brick wall and a gray street beneath them, the scene places us directly in the heart of a neighborhood moment.
This piece reflects a time before distractions, when connection was physical, present, and shared. Games like double Dutch weren’t just play, they were community. They built rhythm, confidence, friendship, and belonging.
There is also a subtle nod to the era surrounding the Civil Rights Movement, a time marked by struggle, but also by unity. In the midst of hardship, joy still existed. Kids still played. Communities still found ways to connect and create light within heavy moments.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it reflects the power of togetherness. Even during challenging times, these moments of joy, movement, and shared experience helped shape identity, resilience, and culture.
“Double Up” is a reminder that transformation isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it lives in simple moments, in laughter, in rhythm, and in the bonds that carry us through.
“Double Up” captures three young girls playing double Dutch, two swinging the ropes while one jumps in rhythm at the center. Set against an orange backdrop reminiscent of a brick wall and a gray street beneath them, the scene places us directly in the heart of a neighborhood moment.
This piece reflects a time before distractions, when connection was physical, present, and shared. Games like double Dutch weren’t just play, they were community. They built rhythm, confidence, friendship, and belonging.
There is also a subtle nod to the era surrounding the Civil Rights Movement, a time marked by struggle, but also by unity. In the midst of hardship, joy still existed. Kids still played. Communities still found ways to connect and create light within heavy moments.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it reflects the power of togetherness. Even during challenging times, these moments of joy, movement, and shared experience helped shape identity, resilience, and culture.
“Double Up” is a reminder that transformation isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it lives in simple moments, in laughter, in rhythm, and in the bonds that carry us through.
I’m Talking to the Man in the Mirror
48(H)x36(w)
“I’m Talking to the Man in the Mirror” captures a young man standing before his reflection, searching for answers he was never given.
He never knew his father. Never had the connection, the guidance, or the understanding of where certain parts of him came from. There is a quiet curiosity, wondering what his father looked like, what traits they shared, and why that relationship never existed.
In that absence, questions form.
But when he looks into the mirror, he doesn’t just see himself, he sees an older, wiser version looking back. Steady. Assured. Whole.
The reflection becomes reassurance.
It tells him that everything will be okay. That he is enough. That everything he needs is already within him.
The title draws inspiration from Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson, reinforcing the idea that transformation begins within. That the person he’s been searching for guidance from… is himself.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it reflects self-discovery born out of absence. It shows that even without a blueprint, growth is still possible.
“I’m Talking to the Man in the Mirror” is a reminder that sometimes the answers we’re searching for aren’t missing, they’re waiting for us to see them within ourselves.
“I’m Talking to the Man in the Mirror” captures a young man standing before his reflection, searching for answers he was never given.
He never knew his father. Never had the connection, the guidance, or the understanding of where certain parts of him came from. There is a quiet curiosity, wondering what his father looked like, what traits they shared, and why that relationship never existed.
In that absence, questions form.
But when he looks into the mirror, he doesn’t just see himself, he sees an older, wiser version looking back. Steady. Assured. Whole.
The reflection becomes reassurance.
It tells him that everything will be okay. That he is enough. That everything he needs is already within him.
The title draws inspiration from Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson, reinforcing the idea that transformation begins within. That the person he’s been searching for guidance from… is himself.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it reflects self-discovery born out of absence. It shows that even without a blueprint, growth is still possible.
“I’m Talking to the Man in the Mirror” is a reminder that sometimes the answers we’re searching for aren’t missing, they’re waiting for us to see them within ourselves.
1 + 1 = 1
48(H)x36(w)
“1 + 1 = 1” captures a sacred moment, a husband and wife standing at the altar with their preacher on their wedding day, stepping into a new chapter of life together.
This piece reflects a pivotal transition, the shift from individuality to unity. Where two people, once navigating life on their own, now come together with shared purpose, responsibility, and accountability.
The title challenges traditional math, emphasizing a deeper truth. In marriage, one plus one does not remain separate, it becomes one. A union built on commitment, partnership, and alignment.
This moment represents more than ceremony, it represents transformation. A decision to grow together, to build together, and to move through life as a single, unified force.
The title also draws inspiration from 1+1 by Beyoncé, reinforcing the power of love, connection, and partnership.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it marks a life-changing moment, one where identity evolves, priorities shift, and two lives become one shared journey.
“1 + 1 = 1” is a reminder that true unity is not just about being together, it’s about becoming together.
“1 + 1 = 1” captures a sacred moment, a husband and wife standing at the altar with their preacher on their wedding day, stepping into a new chapter of life together.
This piece reflects a pivotal transition, the shift from individuality to unity. Where two people, once navigating life on their own, now come together with shared purpose, responsibility, and accountability.
The title challenges traditional math, emphasizing a deeper truth. In marriage, one plus one does not remain separate, it becomes one. A union built on commitment, partnership, and alignment.
This moment represents more than ceremony, it represents transformation. A decision to grow together, to build together, and to move through life as a single, unified force.
The title also draws inspiration from 1+1 by Beyoncé, reinforcing the power of love, connection, and partnership.
This piece lives in the Transformation section because it marks a life-changing moment, one where identity evolves, priorities shift, and two lives become one shared journey.
“1 + 1 = 1” is a reminder that true unity is not just about being together, it’s about becoming together.
Triumph
Triumph celebrates resilience, strength, and the ability to rise above. It represents overcoming adversity, embracing identity, and stepping into purpose with confidence and clarity.
Brotherly Love
48(H)x48(w)
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“Brotherly Love” captures a moment of pure joy, a mother holding one son close while the other stands beside them, all smiling, fully present, and connected.
At its core, this piece reflects the strength of family. It speaks to the bond between a mother and her sons, the kind of love that nurtures, protects, and shapes identity. It also highlights the relationship between brothers, two individuals growing up side by side, sharing experiences, challenges, and memories that form an unbreakable connection.
The mother stands as the anchor, a source of guidance, stability, and love. Her presence represents the foundation upon which both boys are being raised, instilling values that will carry them into manhood.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it captures more than a moment, it reflects a future. The joy on her face speaks to pride, to hope, and to the belief in who her sons will become.
“Brotherly Love” is a reminder that triumph is not always about accolades or achievements. Sometimes, it is found in family, in love, and in the quiet confidence of knowing that what is being built today will grow into something meaningful tomorrow.
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“Brotherly Love” captures a moment of pure joy, a mother holding one son close while the other stands beside them, all smiling, fully present, and connected.
At its core, this piece reflects the strength of family. It speaks to the bond between a mother and her sons, the kind of love that nurtures, protects, and shapes identity. It also highlights the relationship between brothers, two individuals growing up side by side, sharing experiences, challenges, and memories that form an unbreakable connection.
The mother stands as the anchor, a source of guidance, stability, and love. Her presence represents the foundation upon which both boys are being raised, instilling values that will carry them into manhood.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it captures more than a moment, it reflects a future. The joy on her face speaks to pride, to hope, and to the belief in who her sons will become.
“Brotherly Love” is a reminder that triumph is not always about accolades or achievements. Sometimes, it is found in family, in love, and in the quiet confidence of knowing that what is being built today will grow into something meaningful tomorrow.
Life is Sweet
60(H)x48(w)
“Life is Sweet” captures a young man walking down the street, mid-step, blowing a large bubblegum bubble, completely at ease, fully in the moment.
This piece reflects a sense of freedom, joy, and optimism. There is a lightness to his presence, a feeling of moving through life without burden, where everything feels aligned, peaceful, and good.
The title plays on the sweetness of bubblegum, a simple pleasure, while also speaking to a deeper idea. When life feels “sweet,” it means things are flowing, there is clarity, happiness, and a sense of ease.
The vibrant yellow background reinforces that energy, symbolizing warmth, sunlight, and positivity. It surrounds the subject in brightness, amplifying the feeling of joy and possibility.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it represents a state many strive for, a life not defined by struggle, but by presence, peace, and fulfillment.
“Life is Sweet” is a reminder that triumph can look like this too, light, carefree, and fully lived.
“Life is Sweet” captures a young man walking down the street, mid-step, blowing a large bubblegum bubble, completely at ease, fully in the moment.
This piece reflects a sense of freedom, joy, and optimism. There is a lightness to his presence, a feeling of moving through life without burden, where everything feels aligned, peaceful, and good.
The title plays on the sweetness of bubblegum, a simple pleasure, while also speaking to a deeper idea. When life feels “sweet,” it means things are flowing, there is clarity, happiness, and a sense of ease.
The vibrant yellow background reinforces that energy, symbolizing warmth, sunlight, and positivity. It surrounds the subject in brightness, amplifying the feeling of joy and possibility.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it represents a state many strive for, a life not defined by struggle, but by presence, peace, and fulfillment.
“Life is Sweet” is a reminder that triumph can look like this too, light, carefree, and fully lived.
Sunday’s Best
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“Sunday’s Best” captures a familiar and cherished moment, a group of young boys standing on the stoop of their grandmother’s house, dressed sharply in suits for Easter Sunday. Whether cousins or close family friends, they are bound by community, tradition, and shared experience.
This piece reflects a time when holidays meant more than celebration, they meant gathering. After church, families would come together, take photos on the steps, and preserve those moments in albums that told the story of generations.
The phrase “Sunday’s best” speaks to more than clothing. Historically, it represented dignity, pride, and self-expression. For many African-American families, especially during eras of segregation, dressing well was a form of presence and protection, a way to command respect in spaces that did not always offer it freely.
Set against an orange backdrop symbolizing the brick exterior of the home, the stoop becomes more than a setting, it becomes a stage for legacy, for identity, and for joy.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it reflects celebration, not just of the day, but of culture, family, and resilience. It captures a moment where everyone showed up as their best selves, proud, polished, and together.
“Sunday’s Best” is a reminder that triumph can be found in tradition, in community, and in the simple act of showing up with pride and purpose.
“Sunday’s Best” captures a familiar and cherished moment, a group of young boys standing on the stoop of their grandmother’s house, dressed sharply in suits for Easter Sunday. Whether cousins or close family friends, they are bound by community, tradition, and shared experience.
This piece reflects a time when holidays meant more than celebration, they meant gathering. After church, families would come together, take photos on the steps, and preserve those moments in albums that told the story of generations.
The phrase “Sunday’s best” speaks to more than clothing. Historically, it represented dignity, pride, and self-expression. For many African-American families, especially during eras of segregation, dressing well was a form of presence and protection, a way to command respect in spaces that did not always offer it freely.
Set against an orange backdrop symbolizing the brick exterior of the home, the stoop becomes more than a setting, it becomes a stage for legacy, for identity, and for joy.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it reflects celebration, not just of the day, but of culture, family, and resilience. It captures a moment where everyone showed up as their best selves, proud, polished, and together.
“Sunday’s Best” is a reminder that triumph can be found in tradition, in community, and in the simple act of showing up with pride and purpose.
I’m Not Only a Client, I’m the Player’s President
48(H)x48(w)
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“I’m Not Only a Client, I’m the Player’s President” portrays Michael Vick, one of the most electrifying quarterbacks to ever play the game. Known for his speed, elusiveness, and arm strength, Vick redefined the position and changed how the game could be played.
His journey, however, extends beyond the field. After facing legal challenges that led to incarceration, he was given a second chance, one that he used to rebuild not only his career, but his life. He returned to the NFL, continuing to compete at a high level and reshaping his legacy.
Today, as head coach at Norfolk State University, Vick has stepped into a new role, one rooted in leadership, mentorship, and purpose. Returning to his home state of Virginia, he now pours into young men, offering guidance that goes beyond football, preparing them for life.
The title draws inspiration from a lyric by The Notorious B.I.G., flipping the meaning to reflect evolution. Vick is no longer just the player, he is now the one leading, shaping, and directing others. From participant to authority. From talent to teacher.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it tells a story of redemption, growth, and impact. It reflects what is possible when someone embraces a second chance and uses it to uplift the next generation.
“I’m Not Only a Client, I’m the Player’s President” is a reminder that true success isn’t just about what you achieve, it’s about what you become, and who you help along the way.
SOLD
“I’m Not Only a Client, I’m the Player’s President” portrays Michael Vick, one of the most electrifying quarterbacks to ever play the game. Known for his speed, elusiveness, and arm strength, Vick redefined the position and changed how the game could be played.
His journey, however, extends beyond the field. After facing legal challenges that led to incarceration, he was given a second chance, one that he used to rebuild not only his career, but his life. He returned to the NFL, continuing to compete at a high level and reshaping his legacy.
Today, as head coach at Norfolk State University, Vick has stepped into a new role, one rooted in leadership, mentorship, and purpose. Returning to his home state of Virginia, he now pours into young men, offering guidance that goes beyond football, preparing them for life.
The title draws inspiration from a lyric by The Notorious B.I.G., flipping the meaning to reflect evolution. Vick is no longer just the player, he is now the one leading, shaping, and directing others. From participant to authority. From talent to teacher.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it tells a story of redemption, growth, and impact. It reflects what is possible when someone embraces a second chance and uses it to uplift the next generation.
“I’m Not Only a Client, I’m the Player’s President” is a reminder that true success isn’t just about what you achieve, it’s about what you become, and who you help along the way.
Kiss of Life
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“Kiss of Life” captures a tender moment between a grandmother and her granddaughter, a young baby held closely, surrounded by love, safety, and joy. The grandmother’s gray hair marks her wisdom and experience, while her expression reflects pure happiness, the kind that comes from witnessing new life and new beginnings.
This piece speaks to the beauty of generational connection. The grandmother represents guidance, protection, and unconditional love, while the child embodies innocence, possibility, and the future.
The title draws inspiration from Kiss of Life by Sade, echoing the sentiment that some connections are divine. As the lyrics suggest, there is something heavenly about the people placed in our lives.
We don’t choose our family, yet we are blessed by them. Each relationship carries purpose. In this moment, the grandmother becomes an anchor, an angel in the child’s life, offering love, wisdom, and a foundation that will shape who she becomes.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it reflects the joy of life, the beauty of legacy, and the blessing of connection across generations.
“Kiss of Life” is a reminder that love, especially within family, is one of life’s greatest gifts, a force that nurtures, protects, and carries us forward.
“Kiss of Life” captures a tender moment between a grandmother and her granddaughter, a young baby held closely, surrounded by love, safety, and joy. The grandmother’s gray hair marks her wisdom and experience, while her expression reflects pure happiness, the kind that comes from witnessing new life and new beginnings.
This piece speaks to the beauty of generational connection. The grandmother represents guidance, protection, and unconditional love, while the child embodies innocence, possibility, and the future.
The title draws inspiration from Kiss of Life by Sade, echoing the sentiment that some connections are divine. As the lyrics suggest, there is something heavenly about the people placed in our lives.
We don’t choose our family, yet we are blessed by them. Each relationship carries purpose. In this moment, the grandmother becomes an anchor, an angel in the child’s life, offering love, wisdom, and a foundation that will shape who she becomes.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it reflects the joy of life, the beauty of legacy, and the blessing of connection across generations.
“Kiss of Life” is a reminder that love, especially within family, is one of life’s greatest gifts, a force that nurtures, protects, and carries us forward.
What Goes Around?
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“What Goes Around?” captures a young girl mid-motion, joyfully playing with a hula hoop as it spins around her waist. It reflects a carefree childhood moment, one filled with laughter, movement, and simplicity.
Beyond the play, the title carries a deeper meaning. “What goes around comes around” speaks to the energy we put into the world, how our actions, intentions, and the way we treat others often find their way back to us.
The circular motion of the hula hoop becomes symbolic, a visual reminder of life’s cycles, of cause and effect, of giving and receiving.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it reflects both joy and awareness. It highlights the beauty of innocence while gently reinforcing a timeless truth about character and humanity.
“What Goes Around?” is a reminder to move through life with kindness, because what you give will always come back around.
“What Goes Around?” captures a young girl mid-motion, joyfully playing with a hula hoop as it spins around her waist. It reflects a carefree childhood moment, one filled with laughter, movement, and simplicity.
Beyond the play, the title carries a deeper meaning. “What goes around comes around” speaks to the energy we put into the world, how our actions, intentions, and the way we treat others often find their way back to us.
The circular motion of the hula hoop becomes symbolic, a visual reminder of life’s cycles, of cause and effect, of giving and receiving.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it reflects both joy and awareness. It highlights the beauty of innocence while gently reinforcing a timeless truth about character and humanity.
“What Goes Around?” is a reminder to move through life with kindness, because what you give will always come back around.
Give That Sista Her Flowers
“Give That Sista Her Flowers” portrays a Black woman holding a large, vibrant arrangement, a powerful symbol of recognition, appreciation, and honor.
This piece speaks to the importance of acknowledging the value and impact of Black women, whose contributions have shaped families, communities, and culture for generations. Too often, their work has gone unseen, their voices unheard, and their efforts underappreciated, despite the weight they carry and the influence they hold.
The phrase “give her flowers” is both literal and symbolic. It represents the act of celebrating someone while they are here, recognizing their greatness in real time rather than waiting until it’s too late.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it captures that moment of recognition. A shift from being overlooked to being honored. From silent contribution to visible appreciation.
“Give That Sista Her Flowers” is a reminder that gratitude should be expressed openly and often, and that the women who shape our lives deserve to be seen, celebrated, and valued, fully and unapologetically.
This piece speaks to the importance of acknowledging the value and impact of Black women, whose contributions have shaped families, communities, and culture for generations. Too often, their work has gone unseen, their voices unheard, and their efforts underappreciated, despite the weight they carry and the influence they hold.
The phrase “give her flowers” is both literal and symbolic. It represents the act of celebrating someone while they are here, recognizing their greatness in real time rather than waiting until it’s too late.
This piece lives in the Triumph section because it captures that moment of recognition. A shift from being overlooked to being honored. From silent contribution to visible appreciation.
“Give That Sista Her Flowers” is a reminder that gratitude should be expressed openly and often, and that the women who shape our lives deserve to be seen, celebrated, and valued, fully and unapologetically.
aDDITIONAL aRTWORK
Safe in Your Arms
“Safe in Your Arms” captures a quiet, intimate moment between a man and a woman, her arms wrapped around him, her head resting gently on his shoulder.
This piece reflects a deep sense of love, trust, and emotional connection. In his presence, she finds comfort, a space to soften, to rest, and to feel secure. There is a calmness in the moment, an unspoken understanding between them.
His position in front of her symbolizes leadership and protection, not as dominance, but as responsibility. He stands as a source of stability, creating an environment where she can feel supported and at peace.
Together, they embody balance, strength and softness, protection and vulnerability, giving and receiving.
“Safe in Your Arms” is a reflection of what it means to feel truly secure in love, where presence alone can create peace.
This piece reflects a deep sense of love, trust, and emotional connection. In his presence, she finds comfort, a space to soften, to rest, and to feel secure. There is a calmness in the moment, an unspoken understanding between them.
His position in front of her symbolizes leadership and protection, not as dominance, but as responsibility. He stands as a source of stability, creating an environment where she can feel supported and at peace.
Together, they embody balance, strength and softness, protection and vulnerability, giving and receiving.
“Safe in Your Arms” is a reflection of what it means to feel truly secure in love, where presence alone can create peace.
She Ain’t Heavy
“She Ain’t Heavy” captures a tender and powerful moment, a father lifting his daughter onto his shoulders, raising her higher so she can see beyond her current view.
This gesture speaks to more than play, it represents responsibility, protection, and vision. A father’s role to guide, to create opportunity, and to position his daughter to see further, reach higher, and move through life with confidence.
In his strength, she finds security. In his presence, she feels safe, supported, and loved. These quiet, intimate moments become lasting memories, shaping how she understands trust, care, and connection.
The title draws inspiration from He Ain't Heavy by Gilbert Young, reimagined here through the lens of fatherhood. It speaks to the idea that the responsibility of caring for a child is never a burden, it is a purpose.
“She Ain’t Heavy” is a reminder that true strength is not just in lifting, but in carrying with love, consistency, and intention.
This gesture speaks to more than play, it represents responsibility, protection, and vision. A father’s role to guide, to create opportunity, and to position his daughter to see further, reach higher, and move through life with confidence.
In his strength, she finds security. In his presence, she feels safe, supported, and loved. These quiet, intimate moments become lasting memories, shaping how she understands trust, care, and connection.
The title draws inspiration from He Ain't Heavy by Gilbert Young, reimagined here through the lens of fatherhood. It speaks to the idea that the responsibility of caring for a child is never a burden, it is a purpose.
“She Ain’t Heavy” is a reminder that true strength is not just in lifting, but in carrying with love, consistency, and intention.
I Wanna Rock With You
“I Wanna Rock With You” is a vibrant expression of music, culture, and performance, capturing the energy and emotion of a live band in motion.
The piece draws inspiration from the spirit of jazz and the broader musical culture of the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s, an era where music was deeply felt, expressive, and alive. Through bold color and dynamic composition, the painting creates a sense of rhythm, movement, and experience.
At the center, the lead performer stands with arm extended, fully commanding the moment. His presence reflects confidence, connection, and the undeniable power of live performance, where the artist and audience become one.
The title is a nod to Rock with You by Michael Jackson, evoking a timeless feeling, smooth, soulful, and rooted in rhythm and joy.
“I Wanna Rock With You” is a celebration of music as a shared experience, where sound, energy, and movement come together to create something unforgettable.
The piece draws inspiration from the spirit of jazz and the broader musical culture of the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s, an era where music was deeply felt, expressive, and alive. Through bold color and dynamic composition, the painting creates a sense of rhythm, movement, and experience.
At the center, the lead performer stands with arm extended, fully commanding the moment. His presence reflects confidence, connection, and the undeniable power of live performance, where the artist and audience become one.
The title is a nod to Rock with You by Michael Jackson, evoking a timeless feeling, smooth, soulful, and rooted in rhythm and joy.
“I Wanna Rock With You” is a celebration of music as a shared experience, where sound, energy, and movement come together to create something unforgettable.
Cake and Ice Cream
“Cake and Ice Cream” captures a heartfelt family moment, a young child leaning over a table, ready to blow out birthday candles, surrounded by a mother, father, siblings, and love.
This piece reflects a familiar tradition, simple celebrations that carried deep meaning. Whether at home or in places like McDonald’s, birthdays weren’t always about extravagance, they were about presence. About showing up, being together, and making the moment feel special.
For many families, especially in Black communities, celebrations were created with what was available. “Cake and ice cream” became more than a phrase, it became a way of marking milestones with intention, joy, and togetherness, no matter the budget.
These moments built connection. They created memories that lasted far beyond the day itself. They reinforced the importance of family, of support, and of celebrating one another in meaningful ways.
“Cake and Ice Cream” is a reminder that it’s not the size of the celebration that matters, it’s the love within it.
This piece reflects a familiar tradition, simple celebrations that carried deep meaning. Whether at home or in places like McDonald’s, birthdays weren’t always about extravagance, they were about presence. About showing up, being together, and making the moment feel special.
For many families, especially in Black communities, celebrations were created with what was available. “Cake and ice cream” became more than a phrase, it became a way of marking milestones with intention, joy, and togetherness, no matter the budget.
These moments built connection. They created memories that lasted far beyond the day itself. They reinforced the importance of family, of support, and of celebrating one another in meaningful ways.
“Cake and Ice Cream” is a reminder that it’s not the size of the celebration that matters, it’s the love within it.
We All Scream for Ice Cream
“We All Scream for Ice Cream” captures a peaceful family moment, five people seated together on a bench, each enjoying their own ice cream cone.
There is a calmness in the scene, a sense of ease and togetherness. No rush, no pressure, just a family present in the moment, sharing time, laughter, and simple joy.
This piece reflects the beauty of everyday experiences. Moments that may seem small, sitting together, enjoying a treat, become the memories that last the longest. It speaks to the importance of quality time, connection, and being intentional about showing up for one another.
The title draws inspiration from the classic 1927 song “I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream,” a playful phrase that has lived on through generations, symbolizing fun, summer, and shared excitement.
“We All Scream for Ice Cream” is a reminder that joy doesn’t always come from grand gestures. Sometimes, it lives in the simplest moments, shared with the people who matter most.
There is a calmness in the scene, a sense of ease and togetherness. No rush, no pressure, just a family present in the moment, sharing time, laughter, and simple joy.
This piece reflects the beauty of everyday experiences. Moments that may seem small, sitting together, enjoying a treat, become the memories that last the longest. It speaks to the importance of quality time, connection, and being intentional about showing up for one another.
The title draws inspiration from the classic 1927 song “I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream,” a playful phrase that has lived on through generations, symbolizing fun, summer, and shared excitement.
“We All Scream for Ice Cream” is a reminder that joy doesn’t always come from grand gestures. Sometimes, it lives in the simplest moments, shared with the people who matter most.
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