Art can be a conversation across generations, even when the artists don’t realize they’re speaking the same visual language.
Take The Tree of Knowledge, one of my more detailed abstract pieces—layered with colour, movement, and meaning. It’s a tree, yes, but not just a tree. It’s growth and memory, effort and evolution. Every line is intentional, every mark part of a system—organic, chaotic, ordered. It’s about the stories we gather over time, the questions we ask, and the patterns we form in our search for understanding.
And then there’s Ace.
His piece—a popsicle stick glued to a torn sheet of paper, elegantly signed in the upper right corner—is a surrealist masterstroke. Deadpan and sincere. And framed like royalty. It’s giving Dada. It’s giving “What even is art?” It’s giving “Why not this?” And honestly, it works. There’s something bold about taking the ordinary and declaring it worthy of a golden frame. It made me laugh and think all at once—always the sign of something special.
What’s wild is that Ace doesn’t even know about The Banana—Maurizio Cattelan’s infamous duct-taped banana artwork that shook the art world and spawned a million thinkpieces. And yet here he is, intuitively landing in the same realm of artistic rebellion and play.
This is why I love creating—and helping nurture a little human who creates too. Whether abstract or surreal, detailed or minimal, art gives us space to explore our ideas, our humour, and the oddball ways we try to make sense of the world.
A framed popsicle stick. Gnarled trees of thought. All of it matters. All of it speaks if we but pause to listen.
Mini Muse & Me 