Company was always a good word. It meant the door would open soon, that someone was coming over. My parents would tidy the house, move with purpose, their faces lighter. The air would shift. Company meant a fuller room.

These paintings began in the opposite of that — a time when the door stayed shut. Where I’d usually be working on commissions and traveling, I found myself isolated, paging through photographs of strangers. Certain faces held me. Not because I knew them, but because I wanted to. Their expressions carried something unspoken — a thought mid-formed, a weight mid-held. I decided to sit with one for a while. Just looking. Just staying.

One face became another, and another. The hours I spent painting them felt less like making a picture and more like keeping each other company. No words exchanged, only the slow work of seeing — the kind of looking that changes the air.

The eyes have become the quiet center of this collection. Soft and striking, they hold their ground. Every one of them is in thought, and it is felt. Together, these portraits form a roomful of individuals — tender, layered, and vulnerable. Each one is its own presence. Each one stands alone.

For years they’ve kept me company. Now, they’ll keep each other company on the wall. You’re welcome to stand among them, and see what they hold for you.