Becoming a Pirate in the Gilded Mirror

When I painted this boy, I was painting a memory that belongs to all of us. He stands in his cream pajamas on worn wooden floorboards, the house quiet at bedtime. A simple wooden sword lies at his feet, put down for a moment. Yet the gilded mirror before him refuses to show what is ordinary. Instead, it reveals the captain he already carries inside: a navy coat trimmed in gold, a red sash, a black bicorn hat, a proud mustache, and a bright macaw perched on his shoulder like a loyal first mate.

I built the surface with thick impasto, layering paint so it catches light and almost rises from the canvas. Two lamps glow on either side like stage lights, wrapping the room in warm gold against deep teal and blue. The theater of the scene felt right to me, because imagination is where we first rehearse our courage.

This painting asks a gentle question. When did we stop seeing the hero in our reflection? For me, that boy is still there, waiting between reality and dreams. I hope that when you stand before this work, you meet your own captain too, and remember the strength you once knew so well.