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Prosperity Acres Four Color Textured Logo

Prosperity Acres is a Calvert County-based farm that provides cow and goat meat raised humanely in a stress-free, hormone-free environment. The farm is run by an amazing, hard-working family – the Bowen’s – who discovered my work and hired me to work on a logo, branding, and marketing for their farm (as well as other fantastic projects). If you’ve never had a steak raised locally without all the mass-produced processing, you’re completely missing out.

Check ‘em out. Prosperity Acres.

Prosperity Acres Color Logo

The Bowen’s “Green Goats” can be hired out to clean up unwanted brush and vegetation. These guys are amazing lawn mowers and weed eaters. Literally.

Green Goats Color Logo

Business Impact Group Logo Concept 1

BIG Logo BW 1

Business Impact Group Logo Concept 2

BIG Logo BW 2

Business Impact Group Logo Concept 3

BIG Logo BW 3

Creating artwork of family is funny. Good funny. Especially when noting visual traits of your dad or uncles. Aaron is a first cousin on dad’s side and like the rest of us Palmer boys, married up. Not sure how we make that happen – Texas charm? Don’t think it’s the money or looks. Neither are readily available.

This black and white pencil drawing was commissioned in 2012 as a birthday gift, then Christmas, then Valentines, finally morphing into a random surprise gift. That’s how my studio operates occasionally. Grateful for patience, and all seem pleased with the outcome!

I knelt down beside his bed, draped my torso over him and cradled my head with my hand, elbow resting over the opposite side of him. The clock’s yellow glow lined us in soft light and shot shadows crawling up the wall. Behind us the whir of a sleep-creating sound machine and swoosh of the ceiling fan filled the room with a gentle night-song. The melody of sleep and dreams and comfort.

We prayed. Our simple prayer of every night. Praying thanks, simple needs and protection.

“Daddy, heart.”

“You want me to listen to your heart?” A ritual begun the previous night.

“Yeah.”

“Ok.”

I leaned in and his two-year-old arms grabbed my head and steered it towards his chest. A strong grip. Surprising for a little boy. He pressed my ear in deep and I could feel his little chin and soft cheek against my forehead. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Small and quick in perfect rhythm.

“I hear it buddy…”

“Daddy’s heart.”

“You wanna hear Daddy’s heart?”

“Yeah.”

I cupped his head up to my chest and pulled him in to listen.

“Hear it? It says Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump…”

A slow, “Yeah…”

Then quiet. Pensive. He lay back down on his back. Blue-blanket-warmed, eyes glancing around the ceiling, trying to find somewhere to land his thoughts. The room grew heavy. A presence had arrived. A deep presence. Not evil, not safe. But good. It moved calmly. I felt it. Elijah felt it. He turned serious.

Then his eyes rimmed wet. Swimming deep with thought. His face became older. Not a two year old’s anymore. Our souls were the same age.

“A-scared.”

“You’re scared?”

“Yeah,” turning higher-pitched, “Mommy.”

“Daddy’s here, Bub. What’s the matter?” I knew.

“Scared, Mommy…” He had felt it. I had felt it. The depth. The awakening. The Deep Sadness of life. The finite. I leaned in and listened to his heart again. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Measured heart beats. Numbered heart beats. So few heartbeats behind, so many ahead. But numbered. I pulled him in to listen again to mine. Deeper. Slower. Heavier. So many more in my past. Another numbered future. A number known by One. I knew that. He was knowing that. Learning that and feeling it too. Right now. It sank with calculated weight.

“Daddy’s here, Elijah.” I moved in closer, put my hand over his rhythmic chest.

“Elijah, you have a good heart. It’s little, Daddy’s is big. But Elijah’s is growing.”

“Growing big and tall and strong?”

“Yeah, big and tall and strong. Like Daddy’s. You have a good heart. Inside of you.” Pointing to his chest. He thought again. Joy was filling his veins again. Bringing life. Pulling the heaviness out of his eyes. They looked right at me. He wasn’t my son. He was a child of another Father. He looked at me as a contemporary. The Great Hope was surrounding him like a fragrance. The Deep Sadness was morphing.

“Big and tall and strong,” he said. Not a question. A declaration.

I pushed back the little tuft of blonde hair from his forehead and kissed his door-jamb infused scar of last summer. A scar of stitches and crying, and a betrayal of life and everything immortal. I knew he was feeling an earthborn weight but was being beckoned by eternity already inscribed on his heart. It was overwhelming.

I held the kiss on his head long. I wanted to be the Hope. I wasn’t the Hope. I was a messenger. A transcriber.

“I love you Elijah.”

He was still looking right at me. I could see my outline of yellow glow in his eyes. They danced again. “I love you too Daddy.” Joy encircling. Warming us both.

I pulled myself up, finished goodnights, and closed the door holding onto the handle for a thoughtful minute. Our normal two-year-old jumps, bops, plays, jabbers and sings for half an hour at bedtime. Tonight was different. The room was silent, filled with thought. A heartbeat had introduced the Deep Sadness but a Love had ushered in the Great Hope. Fear cast aside by perfect love.

I received this gift. I gave thanks.

And I will remember.

Completed January 2013 for a fantastic photographer and friend from Chesapeake Beach. I love collaborating with great people on meaningful projects. This was one of them.

I’m not really sure when these pieces were completed. It’s just been too long. Perhaps William & Mary art class 2001? Sure, we’ll go with it. This knife-painted oil collection was recovered from beneath my old bed at my parent’s house. Love the contrast, texture and colors achieved with knifed-on oil.

Completed in spring 2012 for a great local business specializing in local concierge services. Very much enjoy support local businesses and giving them the professional look they deserve! WordPress template from Organic Themes and customized within the Infinite Errands look and feel.

Completed this winter of 2012 for a favorite local bakery of mine: Blondies in North Beach. All profit made completing this commissioned design piece will go straight to my stomach. Yes, I cannot help myself in the bakery. An amazing place to eat.