For years, I carried ideas like invisible baggage—concepts I didn’t think were worth much, fragments of dreams I quietly labeled too weird, too complicated, or simply too much. I convinced myself the world wouldn’t understand them, and worse, I convinced myself I didn’t need to create them.
So I didn’t.
I let them live inside me—unspoken, unrealized, untouched.
But something shifted recently. Something deep. Something raw. The birth of my daughter was more than the arrival of new life. It was a rebirth of my own creativity, too. Since she came into this world, ideas have flooded back, but not quietly this time. They come with emotion, urgency—sometimes even tears. I’ve found myself unable to function unless I get them out. It’s like my body and mind have conspired together to say, Enough waiting. It’s time.
This creative space I’m in? It’s not glamorous. It’s not about trends or profit or pleasing the masses. It’s not about building a following, getting likes, or turning art into business. It’s much more primal than that. It’s about survival. It’s about clarity. It’s about the sacred act of releasing something that was never meant to stay locked inside me.
I don’t care if these ideas make money. I don’t even care if people get it. Some might love them. Others might think they’re meaningless. That’s okay. These projects I’m working on—whether a book, a photo series, a concept, a brand, or even a moment captured in silence—are not for validation. They are a release. A ritual. My contribution to the world’s noise, spoken in my own tone.
I think a lot of us have been conditioned to only create if there's a guaranteed return. But I’ve come to believe that creating the work itself is the return. That if something has lived inside me for years, it deserves to live outside me, too.
So here I am—committed to releasing the ideas I’ve sat on for too long. Over the next few years, I’ll be birthing them one by one, not for applause, not for money, but for peace. For my daughter, so she knows her father never gave up on what lit his soul. And for myself, so I can finally breathe a little deeper knowing I didn’t let fear win.
P.S.
This post is just the beginning.
My next adventure is a book called Beyond the Surface—but it’s more than that. It’s an experience. A reminder that things aren’t always what they seem. That clarity isn’t always truth. That sometimes, what’s blurred says more than what’s in focus.
This project lives in that in-between space.
It’s quiet. It’s intentional.
And it dares you to look deeper—not just at the images, but at yourself.
Pre-orders are now live.
If you’ve ever been misunderstood, overlooked, or boxed in by the surface… this one’s for you.
