Frantic Cries and Frito Pies - a painting of a woman screaming in anguish over a bad of fritos preparados.

Frantic Cries and Frito Pies

WOODCOCK on September 15, 2026

05/2026 — 12″ x 7.5″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$450

Some problems are bigger than snacks. There are moments when everything feels like too much. You cry. You scream. You assume the worst. Eventually you get hungry.

Frantic Cries and Frito Pies pairs overwhelming anguish with the modest consolation of Fritos preparados—a bag of corn chips loaded with cheese, chili, jalapeños, and whatever else might make things slightly more tolerable.

It probably won’t fix anything. But it is a Frito pie.

SOLD
Iced Uncertain Tea painting with imagery that are meant to help remove doubt through luck, chance, and prediction...with a fortune teller enjoying a large cup of San Antonio's favorite Bill Miller Ice Tea.

Iced Uncertain Tea

WOODCOCK on September 4, 2026

05/2026 — 50″ x 48″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$2400

Uncertainty is uncomfortable. That’s probably why we’ve invented so many ways to negotiate with it.

Tarot cards. Lucky coins. Tea leaves. Fortune tellers. Horoscopes. We don’t necessarily expect them to predict the future—we just hope they’ll make uncertainty a little easier to live with.

Iced Uncertain Tea imagines that search for certainty with an oversized Bill Miller iced tea—a San Antonio favorite—because the refreshment of sweet tea on a sweltering Texas day is one thing that’s never in doubt.

Raspas y Tristezas or "snow cones and sorrows" is a painting about the highs and lows of being a child. The joy of a snow cone and the tragic loss when it is dropped...and then there is the bees.

Raspas y Tristezas

WOODCOCK on September 4, 2026

05/2026 — 45″ x 48″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$2400

Childhood has a remarkable way of turning ordinary moments into emotional extremes. A snow cone is pure joy. Until it’s dropped. Then the world is briefly over. And somewhere nearby, there are always bees waiting to complicate things.

Raspas y Tristezas (“Snow Cones and Sorrows”) grew out of conversations with Anthony the Poet about growing up in San Antonio. He introduced me to the neighborhood raspa man, along with the strangely vivid memories—both wonderful and tragic—that could be attached to something as simple as flavored ice.

Pucheros y Huevos Rancheros painting of a pouty pin up girl who is a bit indignant about the impending battle heralded by the salt and pepper shakers over choosing red or green salsa.

Pucheros y Huevos Rancheros (Pouty faces and Ranchers Eggs)

WOODCOCK on July 28, 2026

05/2026 — 37″ x 30″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$950

Eventually, somebody will ask you to pick a side. Even at breakfast.

Pucheros y Huevos Rancheros—“Pouty Faces and Rancher’s Eggs”—was named with the help of my collaborator Anthony the Poet of San Antonio.

In a city serious about its breakfast tacos, even salsa can inspire debate: red or green? Our unhappy diner would apparently prefer not to participate. She just wants a little heat on her huevos rancheros without turning breakfast into a declaration of allegiance.

Sometimes red sounds good. Sometimes green sounds better. This shouldn’t have to be a thing.

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.

Miedo Desnudo (naked fear and menudo) painting of two screaming skeletons representing primal fear caused by the foot of a pig reaching out of a bowl of mexican menudo soup.

Miedo Desnudo y Menudo (Naked Fear and Menudo)

WOODCOCK on July 21, 2026

05/2026 — 32″ x 30″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$950

Fear is easier to face with something good to eat.

Miedo Desnudo y Menudo—“Naked Fear and Menudo”—grew out of conversations with Anthony the Poet, my Mexican American collaborator from San Antonio, who helped develop many of the English and Spanish titles in this series. And yes, it rhymes!…in Spanish.

The series pairs existential anxieties with the foods, rituals, and celebrations we use to make being alive a little more tolerable. Here, naked primordial fear meets a comforting bowl of menudo.