Sustain and Release

Acrylic and on canvas

48x60in

2026

There's a point during a trip when you stop trying to figure out exactly where you are in it. You've spent hours riding these waves of sensation, sustaining that heightened state without knowing exactly when it will end. Eventually, you begin to release, letting go of the need to control the experience and allowing it to take its course. Not necessarily because the trip is ending, but because you've stopped needing to know when it will. There's something interesting about that space between holding on and letting go, especially when you're not quite sure whether you're still at the peak or beginning to come down.

After all the movement, color, and sensory overload throughout the show, we're back to something familiar: flowers Jeff grew, sitting in jars around our home. But even here, things aren't entirely what they seem. Some flowers are almost impossibly clear, while others are barely there. They seem to drift in and out of focus, and even the jars begin to disappear. I liked the idea that you couldn't tell whether the scene was coming together or slowly falling apart.

Throughout Love Trippin, I've explored all the overwhelming and occasionally ridiculous sensations of being in love. The euphoria, the excitement, the way something ordinary can suddenly feel extraordinary. But I think there's another side to love that's just as important: surrender. Learning to exist within something you can't completely control, without always needing to know where it's going or how it will unfold. There's something both terrifying and comforting about that, and I liked the idea of ending the show somewhere in between.