Salty Snacks and Panic Attacks painting with a man overwhelmed by all the salty options to snack on.

Salty Snacks and Panic Attacks

WOODCOCK on September 4, 2026

05/2026 — 48″ x 52″

Acrylic on used fence pickets and dowel rods

$2400

The hardest choices aren’t between good and evil. They’re between things you enjoy and things you hope won’t kill you.

Somewhere along the way, ordinary decisions become strangely loaded. A bowl of pretzels. Another beer. Dessert. Just one handful.

The painting exaggerates that familiar calculation into a moment of paralysis, where every snack feels like a test and every indulgence carries the faint echo of future consequences.

Barbecue and the Burden of Being painting of a weary bbq chef weighed down by the tug of war between the aversion to killing and the need to eat. The spirits of the animals he cooks occupy his subconscious as he tries to cook his dinner.

Barbecue and the burden of being

WOODCOCK on September 4, 2026

05/2026 — 27.5″ x 30″

Acrylic on used fence pickets

$950

Barbecue is a celebration. Smoke in the air, friends in the backyard, cold drinks, and something delicious on the grill.

It occurred to me one day that every barbecue is also a small memorial service. The pig, the chicken, and the cow are all invited, just not in the way they’d hoped.

We didn’t design this system, but we participate in it every day. Life survives by consuming life. Somewhere between gratitude and appetite sits the strange emotional burden of being an omnivore.

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.

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