I’ve been painting in my cubist style for the past five years.
It’s a style that still fascinates me.
Most of it is improvisation. Some pieces are very simple. Some are layered with chaos. All of them help me get out of my head.
When I paint these demons, I’m translating something internal into structure. Fear. Ego. Pressure. Ambition. Instead of letting those things live inside me, I break them apart into geometry.
Over time, these works became more than experiments. They became part of my space.
I built my own home gallery, something I dreamed about when I first decided to take art seriously. Now my walls hold my work alongside pieces from artists I deeply admire. It’s part of my identity.
What you see here are some of my favorite works from that journey.
Chaos, Cubism, and Basquiat
Living in New York has shaped me.
I’ve had the chance to stand in front of Jean-Michel Basquiat’s work more than once. In New York. In Los Angeles. Every time I see it in person, I’m reminded that chaos can be disciplined.
Basquiat’s energy is raw, but it’s intentional.
That tension inspires me.
You’ll see it in some of my cubist demons. The fractured faces. The layered marks. The crown symbol that appears from time to time. For Basquiat, the crown had its own meaning. For me, it’s a sign of respect. A quiet acknowledgment. If you know, you know.
There’s something powerful about referencing the artists who shaped you without copying them. It becomes a conversation across time.
Music on the Wall
The other day it hit me that some of my red cubist demons would sit perfectly next to Songs for the Deaf by Queens of the Stone Age.
That album has been with me for years. I still play riffs from it on my guitar.
When I placed my work next to that vinyl, it felt natural. The geometry, the tension, the desert heat of that record. It made sense visually and emotionally.
Rock and Metal have always felt structured to me. That’s how I try to approach these paintings.
They’re not random explosions. They’re controlled distortion.
When someone places one of these pieces in a studio or office, I don’t want it to feel themed. I want it to feel like it belongs there.
Black and White: Limitation as Discipline
From time to time, I limit myself to one color.
Black and white only.
I’ve learned that strong art often happens inside limitations. When you remove options, you see more clearly.
These black and white cubist demons strip everything down to simple elements.
Some of them carry symbols from heavy metal culture. The horns. The hand signs. The evil eye. The crown. These aren’t gimmicks. They’re part of the language I grew up around.
You’ll also see cigars in some pieces.
If you follow me on social media, you know I smoke cigars occasionally. In my professional life, we host events. We talk about business, mindset, growth. Sometimes those conversations end in a social setting, sharing a cigar.
It’s not a habit I glorify. It’s a symbol of conversation, reflection, and earned pauses. When it appears in my work, it’s part of my reality.
Ultra Minimalism
There are days when I wake up early and paint before I go to work.
On those mornings, I often create the most minimal pieces. One gesture. One line. Very little noise.
Minimalism forces honesty.
It also pairs well with chaos.
I like seeing my ultra minimalist black and white demons next to more complex works. The contrast creates tension. Clean space next to layered intensity.
That balance reflects how I live.
I’m drawn to chaos, but I respect structure. I value discipline. I value clean spaces. When you hang these minimal pieces on a wall, they stand out because they don’t compete.
They hold their ground quietly.
Improvisation and Accidents
Most of my work begins without a strict plan.
I let the lines move. I let shapes collide.
Some days nothing happens. Other days, something unexpected appears. An accident becomes the anchor of the entire piece.
Those are the works I share.
I’ve painted many versions over the years. The ones you see here are the ones that survived. The ones that felt honest. The ones that held tension without falling apart.
Improvisation keeps me present.
Cubism gives me the framework so the chaos doesn’t take over.
Final Thoughts
These paintings are not about demons in a literal sense.
They’re about translating internal noise into something structured.
They’re about music, discipline, influence, and identity.
If you’re building your own space, whether it’s a studio, an office, or a home gallery, choose art that reflects who you are. Not what’s trending.
Build walls that tell your story.
That’s what I’ve tried to do with mine.
And I’m still building.
