"Why the Change?"

 People have been asking me about the shift in direction of my work for about a year now so I thought I would share.

Why the Change?

My artistic direction evolved because both the world around me—and the world within me—transformed. The subjects and methods that once felt essential gradually ceased to hold the same resonance. Experience reshaped my concerns, and the vocabulary of my earlier work could no longer contain what I hoped to explore.

External forces accelerated this shift. The creative marketplace entered a period of rapid reorientation. Just as significant opportunities appeared ready to materialize, the arrival of COVID-19 dissolved them abruptly, dispersing years of momentum. At the same time, superhero, science-fiction, and adventure narratives were losing their dominance; younger audiences gravitated toward anime, and my own enthusiasm for the genres that once inspired me began to fade.

There were professional disappointments as well. Over time, I found myself used by companies that eagerly showcased my work, offered assurances of future collaboration and financial reward, and then disappeared once the spotlight had served their purposes. These moments left a lasting impression—a recognition of how fragile commitments can be in an industry driven by novelty and shifting priorities.

The landscape was changing in other ways too. As political agendas within the creative world intensified, the artist—rather than the work itself—was increasingly prioritized. It was a subtle form of displacement, felt more as a quiet narrowing of space than a direct exclusion.

Time itself played its part. My audience was aging with me, while younger viewers were no longer engaging with my work in the same way. The market increasingly celebrated the clever and the instantaneous over craftsmanship built through patience, depth, and skill.

Meanwhile, the rise of artificial intelligence brought both fascination and unease. Even as I continued to love digital media and rely on it as a vital part of my practice, its speed and impersonality encouraged me to seek balance. In response, I began returning to traditional materials—oil painting, gouache, and tactile processes that anchor me in a slower, more deliberate mode of making. These physical mediums offered a counterweight to the velocity of digital work, enriching rather than replacing it.

Together, these currents created an inevitable turning point. My work changed because remaining fixed would have been quitting. This transformation is not a retreat but an arrival: a deliberate decision to remain authentic, guided by clarity, maturity, and a renewed sense of purpose.