How It All Started
I’ve always been an artist—painting with my fingers and drawing with my toes ever since I was a toddler. Everything was art to me. As a kid, I could spend hours in my bedroom completely absorbed in a creative project, and I loved every minute of it. Later, in school, I would try to convince my teachers that every homework assignment was actually an art project—they didn’t always agree.
Rooted in Music
I’ve also always loved music. Most of my early knowledge came from exploring the .mp3 files my dad had saved on our family desktop in the late ’90s. Later on, I remember recording songs off the radio so I could replay them whenever I wanted. That turned into buying my first CD—Astro Lounge by Smash Mouth in 2001—and carrying a CD player everywhere. Eventually I graduated to an mp3 player, which I listened to nonstop on the school bus. And by 2004–2005, every week I’d ride my bike to a friend’s house so we could download new music on LimeWire.
Most of my early taste came from my dad’s collection—mainly ’80s and ’90s classic rock and heavy metal. Rock really shaped me, and as I got older, I naturally drifted toward late ’90s and early 2000s alternative. Around that time, I remember seeing a kid at school with an iPod—way cooler than my mp3 player—and instantly knowing I needed one. So I started a little lawn-mowing business in my small neighborhood and saved up to buy one myself.
High school exposed me to hip-hop and rap—genres I’d always been told to avoid growing up in a fairly strict religious household. Once I finally had the freedom to explore music on my own, I dove in headfirst. As a teenager with a lot of complicated feelings, I gravitated toward grunge, punk, and heavier music to cope. I was trying to form my identity and figure myself out. Video game soundtracks became another gateway; I’d hear a track during a game, look it up later, and end up discovering artists I probably never would've found otherwise.
Lost in Silence
After high school, my little brother passed away, and I fell into a severe depression. I leaned heavily on nu-metal, hardcore, emo/screamo, and punk, but that wasn’t enough. Eventually, drug addiction took over, and I drifted away from both music and art—the two things that had always defined me.
During that period, I felt largely disconnected from myself, and everything felt flat. I struggled to find anything interesting in life. Life had lost its color, and nothing held my attention.
Learning to Listen
One day, I noticed that my dad had bought a record player and began setting it up. I was curious about the technology because I had never been around vinyl before. The moment the needle dropped, I was hooked—the purity of sound combined with the warm crackle of dust captivated me. That fascination slowly grew into a full-blown obsession. I eventually shifted from digital to analog and started visiting local shops just to dig through boxes and crates. Back then, used vinyl was only a few dollars, so I began building a collection of my own. Most of what I found were LPs from the ’50s and ’60s, which is how I discovered jazz. I also fell in love with music from the ’60s and ’70s, especially songs rooted in peace, love, and unity—I found myself to be a hippie at heart.
I realized that vinyl was more than just sound—it was an experience. The artwork, especially gatefold jackets, could span nearly two feet and offer a visual journey alongside the music. Vinyl combined the two things I loved most: art and music. That’s when it clicked—modern music and art had largely lost that connection.
Painting My Way Back
Years later, hardship returned. I ended up homeless, living in a van outside of a Walmart. My mental health was slipping, and I needed a distraction—anything to keep me away from drugs. I bought a few small canvas panels at a craft store, thinking maybe I should try painting. At first, nothing happened; the supplies just sat there while I distracted myself with music on my phone, annoyed by all the advertisements. Then I realized how much I missed my vinyl collection.
A couple of weeks later, I started painting a few of my favorite album covers on those tiny canvases—trying to reconnect with something I loved. I kind of liked how they turned out, so I kept going. My goal quickly became more than just reconnecting with music—it was about bringing art and music back together, capturing the story and feeling of each album through paint. Before long, I was painting six or more hours a day, and that went on for months. Eventually, I had over a hundred paintings! I didn’t want the project to end—and I realized it didn’t have to.
A New Beginning
Now, this has become my lifelong passion. Painting these covers saved me and set me on the path to rebuilding my life. Music has always been there for me, and I want to share my collection with you—so you can experience the albums that have shaped me, and perhaps I can experience the albums that have shaped you.
That’s how the idea of Painted Records was born.
And this is just the beginning—I hope these paintings bring you as much joy and connection as they’ve brought me. Thank you for taking the time to read my story of how music and art have literally—and figuratively—“re-covered” me.