Angst a la Mode - painting of a skull representing the brain damage of anxiety with the contents of the skull replace with ice cream complete with a spoon for easy enjoyment of the dairy treat.

Angst a la Mode

WOODCOCK on September 17, 2026

05/2026 — 13.5″ x 12″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$450

Sometimes the problem with having a brain is having to live inside it.

Worry has a remarkable ability to feed itself. One thought becomes another, which becomes another, until you’ve worried about the original problem, every possible consequence, and several disasters that haven’t happened yet. Why don’t we replace the whole troublesome mess with a few scoops of ice cream?

If you’re going to lose your mind, you might as well have dessert.

SOLD
Tiempo Poco y Fideo Loco (Little Time and Fideo Loco) painting of an old man counting down the minutes to his death as he prepares to enjoy some doctored up vermicelli.

Tiempo Poco y Fideo Loco

WOODCOCK on July 26, 2026

05/2026 — 30″ x 22″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$950

Time is short, but don’t rush your dinner.

Tiempo Poco y Fideo Loco grew out of my collaboration with San Antonio poet Anthony Flores for a series pairing existential fears with the traditional and celebratory foods that make being alive a little more enjoyable.

Fideo loco is a distinctly South Texas comfort food—a heartier relative of Mexican sopa de fideo, typically loaded with additions like ground beef, beans, and potatoes. Its humble ingredients and working-class roots have become part of what makes the dish so proudly San Antonio.

We’re all killing time until time kills us. Might as well have another bowl.

Buried Guilt and Barbacoa painting of the buried, slow cooked mean being a metaphor of sorts for the buried guilt we are saddled with through original sin and our oedipal sexual desires.

Buried guilt and barbacoa

WOODCOCK on July 23, 2026

05/2026 — 55″ x 48″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$2400

Some things stay buried. That doesn’t mean they’re gone.

Buried Guilt and Barbacoa was one of four major works created for my collaborative exhibition with Anthony the Poet in San Antonio. The idea was Anthony’s contribution to our ongoing attempt to pair traditional and celebratory foods with the various anxieties of being alive.

Barbacoa gave us an unusually convenient metaphor. Something gets buried, left underground to smolder for hours, and eventually comes back to the surface.

Freud and the priest have their own theories about what else we’ve got cooking down there.