The Beginning Stage

Let's get one thing out of the way.

Without a reference photo, my drawings look like bad cartoons.

There. I said it.

Not the charming, nostalgic kind of cartoons either — more like that awkward horse everyone drew in middle school. (You know the one.)

Realism takes more than just talent or practice (although having the patience of a saint and a playlist that makes you lose track of time certainly helps).

For me, it starts with a connection — and that begins with a photograph.

Most of the animals I draw start with a pull.

A whisper of “oooh, I want to draw a…”Sometimes from inside me. Sometimes from someone who’s asked sweetly, repeatedly… or sent their sixth email with three fox emojis.

Once I know who’s calling, the hunt begins — for the right image and the right feeling.

I work almost exclusively with Canadian photographers — many of whom spend hours (or days!) in the wild, waiting for that perfect, quiet moment. I sift through dozens of photos until one stops me mid-scroll.

It’s a feeling.

A tilt of the head, a flash of personality, a moment of eye contact that makes me think, “Oh. There you are.”

That’s when I know I’ve found it.

Then it’s playtime in Photoshop — shifting the crop, tightening the focus, maybe zooming in on the eyes or nudging the frame just enough to pull you in too.

My goal?

To make you feel what I felt. To spark that same little heart-flip I had when I saw it.

It’s a quiet kind of magic — a dance between the seen and the felt.

Once the reference image is juuuuuuust right, the magic of drawing can begin.

So if you’ve ever stood in front of one of my pieces and felt like the animal has a life of its own — it’s because it does.

That’s what happens when heart, reference, and art all meet in the same place.