Busy making

I try to practice my craft everyday.

The champ

She is tired from being amazing . come check out my Patreon.

Deep in the painter woods

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I am but a man with a brush.

I am but a man with a brush. I dream and sleep. I’m good at both if I may brag? A lot of that art comes from dreaming. The lucidity of waking up and running to a pen and paper is my shining achievement.

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The crown of feels

Finding focus in the new year.

I had to stop watching the news for a few days to find my focus. The newspaper I feel has more heart to it. Being able to put it to words has a strength to it, a passion. I remember being a kiddo and finding these “choose your adventure books” in the 80’s. After I would finish them, I would feel superpowered with creativity. I would draw all the things I had imagined, most had nothing to do with what I was reading. It’s funny to read a dictionary and imagine a new comic book.  To see a new world inside and to be able to make it a real thing.


Deep Sleepers

Once there was a boy and he loved paint. It was all his heart wanted and then he met people and he became a time painter.


All the brush strokes are worlds

My demons are big. They are faceless and yet look like me every time I look in my dirty mirror. They have made me a hell of a fighter. I remember being a kid and not knowing how I felt about sadness and anger. I remember they just came on one day. It had nothing to do with the people who were around me over even the place I was in. I was the prisoner on Avalon and no one would ever be able to see.  It was a labyrinth and I learned to paint sunshine and flowers on the walls and make it my home.  I learned to be happy and calm without depending on others. Learning how to be creative without the sadness was the hardest part. The pain was my drive and when it lessened I felt like a fraud for a bit. I don’t know how I changed out of those robes. Nakedness is a good word. It was the definition of how I felt until I grew to love my nakedness. So raw and so tender like a 20-year sunburn.  I stopped being Jae Jae and let myself be Jawara. I grew my hair out again and let myself be who I felt like on the inside, a new outside. The journey of a painter guys is not an easy road. it never really gets to be an easy road. But it is so deep and empowering once you hit the ground and make your mark.

So much making

I’m at this point where the pain is huge but I want to paint more then I want to rest and rub painkiller cream on the fun bits.

This rocking chair is like a base drum. As the beat hits, I am dancing in my blinks Light bulbs are the rhythm as I move in this motion to the cahone.


El pintor is greater than stupidity.

I feel like this is where my heart took me. That is felt the yellow ink in the paper and let it dance in the fibers. It was a freedom dance. I know the roads we walk as painters are long but in the soberness, they are also completely freeing. We are so much more than the brooding. It is a big part of it, don’t get me wrong but not the main part of it.

I realized that I shine because the people around me are so bright. I like to think we are each other’s lifelines. We have to be there for each other. Just know I have your back and hopefully you have mine.


All the makings

I make because I love. lol Sounds like pooping.