Kona
Paradise

Celebrating the beauty and diversity of West Hawaiʻi waters.

Every creature in this painting belongs to our Kona marine community—some found nowhere else on Earth. Each has its own remarkable behaviors, rhythms, and relationships, contributing to the richness of life beneath the surface.

The manta ray also carries a story of stewardship: local ocean advocates, including members of our dive community working through the Manta Pacific Research Foundation, helped secure statewide protections for these extraordinary animals.

What happens when we begin to see paradise not as a destination, but as a living community to which we belong?

There is a kind of freedom that comes when we release our expectations and simply enter the moment.

Born of years spent swimming among dolphins, this painting is both a celebration and a prayer—a remembrance of the joy, trust, and wonder that can arise when we meet the living world with openness and respect.

What becomes possible when we allow ourselves, and one another, the freedom to simply be?

For as long as I can remember, I felt drawn to the Hawaiian Islands. Surviving the 2004 tsunami in Thailand strengthened my resolve to answer that call and live a big life in honor of those who were lost.

Over the years, Hawaiʻi has shaped me, like a piece of coral smoothed by the tides. What began as a longing for a place has become a journey of discovering more and more of who I AM.

What if coming home is also a journey of becoming?

Created as a prayer in response to the suffering of dolphins in Taiji, Japan, this painting carries an image that has accompanied me since childhood: a luminous golden orb, a symbol of healing and possibility.

The sacred syllables Om Ah Hum invite us to return to breath and presence, allowing compassion to remain alive even in the midst of sorrow.

What becomes possible when we stay present with life's changing currents, trusting that even difficult moments are part of a larger flow?

The underwater landscape at Laʻaloa is never quite the same twice. Shifting light, plankton blooms, pounding surf, and changing water clarity transform familiar lava tubes, canyons, and coral-covered reefs into an ever-changing world.

Some days, the beauty of the landscape is encounter enough. On others, an unexpected visitor—a curious monk seal, an eagle ray, perhaps a shark in the distance—reminds me that I am sharing these waters with lives and stories of their own.

What becomes visible when we return to a familiar place without assuming we know what we'll find?

Mesmerizing ribbons of sunlight, some broad, some delicate, refract through the undulating surface of the sea. They cast shimmering nets of light, tracing the contours of the seafloor, illuminating whatever lies within their reach.

Long fascinated by this fleeting underwater dance, I've only recently begun exploring it more fully in my paintings.

What happens when we stop trying to hold on to beauty and simply allow ourselves to witness it?

Just after slack tide, I sometimes notice the incoming water appearing thicker, its color and clarity subtly changing as two bodies of water begin to mingle.

The rising tide brings plankton-rich waters and the promise of new life and activity. What might seem an ordinary shift in the sea becomes a moment of quiet anticipation.

What becomes visible when we learn to notice the subtle rhythms of a changing world?

Is she ascending or descending? Breathing in or breathing out? Are those clouds above her, or icebergs suspended in the blue?

This painting invites us to lose our familiar points of reference. In the open water column, without a visible bottom or horizon, even our sense of up and down can become uncertain.

The breath becomes our anchor, bringing us back to the present moment, where we can find our center and choose our way forward.

What becomes possible when we learn to find our bearings within ourselves?

During a long, peaceful encounter with resting dolphins, I floated quietly beside a woman I was guiding. As my attention softened and expanded, an intricate geometry began to emerge in my awareness, unfolding into a vivid sequence of images.

What began as a reverie became a profound experience that continued to reveal itself over time. Painting and journaling became my ways of exploring and translating what I had encountered.

What might we discover when we quiet our expectations and allow ourselves to become deeply receptive to the moment?

The third painting in a series inspired by an extraordinary encounter with resting dolphins.

As the dolphins rose together for their breaths, I surfaced among them, surrounded by their presence and meeting their eyes. The intricate geometry that had first appeared in my awareness continued to evolve, growing in complexity until an image of the Earth emerged within it.

It was a moment of profound connection, one I have continued to explore through painting.

What becomes possible when we open ourselves to ways of experiencing the world beyond the familiar?

During a dive expedition in the Sea of Cortez, I entered the water near a pod of twenty-six sperm whales. Before I knew it, I found myself surrounded by these immense beings, moving together through the green water.

Fear and wonder arrived simultaneously. Singing the Gayatri Mantra into my snorkel, I found my center as the whales passed above, below, and beside me. We never touched.

Only afterward did I learn that a female in the pod had given birth just after my swim.

What becomes possible when we meet the unknown with humility, presence, and trust?

Incoming!

A great gathering of Hawaiian spinner dolphins surges through the blue, accompanied by spotted dolphins and their hybrid offspring. Whistles, squeals, movement, and sheer exuberance fill the water as the pod travels together.

Among them, a few playful individuals carry bright yellow-green leaves balanced on their fins, flukes, or rostrums—an invitation to a game of catch and keep-away that I've witnessed countless times in Kona waters.

What happens when the living world arrives with more exuberance than we could ever have anticipated?

A bright yellow leaf becomes the center of an underwater game. Dolphins carry it on their fins, flukes, or rostrums, release it into the water, then turn and swoop to catch it again. Sometimes a podmate darts in to claim the prize.

After hearing stories of this remarkable play, I spent hundreds of hours in Kona waters witnessing its intricacies and participating when the dolphins were interested.

What might we discover about play when we allow another being the freedom to choose whether to join us?

Dolphins are profoundly social beings, forming friendships and traveling together, sometimes swimming side by side with pectoral fins touching.

This especially playful group was photographed by my dear friend and fellow swim guide, Daisuke, who came to know these dolphins through years of shared encounters.

I painted them in celebration of their friendships and in loving remembrance of his.

What if family extends beyond the bonds we are born into, embracing the friendships we make along the way?

Each winter, humpback whales return to the warm Hawaiian waters where mothers give birth and nurture their young. Across generations, this extraordinary journey continues, renewing the ancient circle of life.

Inspired by the sacred bond between mothers and children throughout the living world, I painted this reunion as a celebration of love, connection, and the joy of coming together again.

The luminous golden circle honors the continuity of life and the bonds that remain with us, even across time and distance.

What if reunion is not simply a return to one another, but a remembrance of the love that has always connected us?

Sometimes the only sign of a Hawaiian monk seal is a mysterious pattern scribed in the sand where it has been foraging. Other times, one appears unexpectedly—sleeping atop the fish-farm nets, exploring the harbor, or emerging from a lava tube.

Solitary, inquisitive, and entirely their own, these endangered seals move through our island waters on their own terms.

Their presence is a gift, never an invitation to approach. We can delight in their unexpected appearances while honoring the distance that allows them to remain wild.

What might we discover when we learn to appreciate a fleeting encounter without asking it to become anything more?

Along the rocky shores of Kona, Hawaiian green sea turtles graze on limu, seemingly untroubled by the relentless surge of the shorebreak.

They return to familiar caves and rocky shelters, sometimes resting in the same places for months or years. Occasionally, one rises slowly through the blue, takes a breath or two at the surface, then descends again into its underwater sanctuary.

After decades of protection, these remarkable animals have become a familiar and welcome presence in our coastal waters—a living reminder of what care and conservation can make possible.

What might we learn from a creature so completely at home in the rhythms of its world?

The octopus moves through the sea with extraordinary sensitivity and intelligence, gathering the world through touch, curiosity, and an astonishing capacity to adapt.

A mother octopus devotes the final chapter of her life to protecting and tending her eggs, a profound expression of life's continuity.

In this painting, luminous black pearls gather among her arms, each holding a story, a memory, a relationship within the larger circle of life.

In Hawaiian tradition, ʻaumakua are ancestral guardians, sometimes taking the form of creatures of the natural world. This painting emerged through my own exploration of ancestry, protection, and the mysterious ways our lives remain connected across generations.

Some memories are tender. Others ask for forgiveness, understanding, or simply the courage to look again. Yet all are part of the waters through which we have traveled.

What becomes possible when we hold the stories of our lives with compassion, allowing love and understanding to keep the waters flowing?

Each winter, humpback whales journey from their northern feeding grounds to the warm Hawaiian waters, bringing with them an extraordinary season of life.

Breaching, tail slapping, singing, courting, giving birth, and nurturing their young—these magnificent beings fill our waters with wonder. Known as koholā, whales hold deep significance in Hawaiian traditions, including as ʻaumakua, ancestral guardians, for some families.

For me, their return is an annual celebration, a reminder that the ocean is alive with relationships and mysteries far greater than ourselves.

What happens when we allow ourselves to be delighted by the extraordinary lives unfolding all around us?