I came late to art, never even trying to paint or draw until I was in my 50s. Miraculously, I have found myself through art expression. CAP made this possible for me. I stumbled on to their beautiful studio when I was unsheltered ( a two year ordeal) and at the lowest point I had ever been in my life. Through their support, instruction and ncouragement, I found a way to communicate that sustains and buoys me even to this day, I paint, draw, and bead every day. Art is my prayer, my hope, my inspiration and my voice. 

The celebration of color, the movement of brush on canvas, the spontaneous connection of subject to time and place allows me to speak with a language that others can hear. As an elder gay man in San Francisco, I am invisible and my voice is unheard at worst and barely tolerated at best. People don’t want to listen, but they speak volumes about the art I create. I go for weeks without talking to anyone. It can be quite lonely. However, my art speaks to the subjects which are found all around me, and to the time and space they occupy. Art offers me a way to communicate the beauty of the world around me. People see my art and they hear what it says to them and then they see life as I see it. Yet their response reveals to them their voice, their truths. Each piece of art tells a different tale to each viewer. And I am heard. I am seen through this Unspoken language of art.

My world is populated with my artworks. They hold space and conversation with me. The Street Saints series, the Black Lives Matter series, the Murdered Transpeople series,each hold lively and inspirational talks with me. I invite them to inhabit the work and I thank them for allowing me to portray them in my art. 

I have discovered myself. I was hidden beneath self doubt, loathing and mental illness and addiction. Painting reveals each layer and allows me to integrate these seemingly harsh and undesirable aspects of self. Art has been a lifeline, without which I would have surely drowned. Hospitality House/CAP threw me that lifeline and anchored me to myself with art. And there is no going back.