I mean — yes, I love it. I always have.
In fact, do you remember being a kid and having that one thing you could do for hours without realizing how much time had passed?
Like shooting hoops in the driveway until your mother called you in for dinner,
Getting lost in a hobby until you forgot the world existed, or fixing something with your own hands just because it seemed interesting.
The kind of thing that, if someone had told you as an adult you could do it for a living, you would have chosen without thinking twice.
The kind of thing most people look back on and wish they had pursued.
For me, that was painting.
I never saw it as a job. I saw it as my dream.
And somehow, I built my life around it.
But the reason I still paint today is not just the art.
It’s the messages I receive every day because of my work.
Messages like these:
“I had been feeling for a while that my relationship was getting colder.
It wasn’t like we were separating, exactly, but I had this feeling that we didn’t connect the same way anymore.
I had tried flowers and dinners, but nothing seemed to say what I actually wanted to say.
We always ended up back in that same coldness, with the same endless arguments, until I decided to try one of your paintings.
When I gave her one with a photo from our honeymoon, it was incredible.
Even when I received it, before giving it to her, I knew it was going to be a turning point.
It didn’t just look beautiful.
It actually communicated: ‘I’m doing this for you because I truly love you and value you, even if I don’t say it every day.’
And her reaction was exactly that.
From there, the relationship stopped feeling so distant.
And even though it wasn’t a change that happened overnight, little by little
I started to feel that affection from years ago coming back.
Delighted, Victor.
Thank you so much.”
Or like this one:
“I had a photo from a trip we took years ago.
To anyone else, it was just a normal photo.
But for us, there was a whole story behind it.
I commissioned it from Victor because I didn’t want to buy another empty gift that, deep down, would still say:
‘I’m generic and I had no idea what to get you because, even though I’m your husband, I’m not really paying attention.’
This was the complete opposite.
It turned out exactly how I hoped, because when she saw that special photo painted in oil,
With those brushstrokes and that texture, she said:
‘I can’t believe you remembered this photo and did this. I love you, Mark.’
And she started crying with emotion.
That was exactly what I had dreamed of.
Thank you, Victor.
You have a true gift.”
Messages like these are the reason I pick up the brush every morning.
And what I’ve realized through all of this is that the real reason I paint is this:
I get to make two dreams come true at the same time.
Mine: doing what I love with every brushstroke.
And other people’s dreams too.
Like one client who told me that, literally, his dream was to feel the same love from his partner that he had felt years ago, and for the relationship not to end with her walking away with someone else.
He didn’t know what to do.
He had spent a long time trying to make up for things with gifts, but every gift seemed to say less than what he actually wanted to say.
He didn’t need to spend more.
He needed to choose something that could only have come from him.
When he received the painting, he wrote to me saying that, for the first time, he felt the gift actually said something specific.
Not just, “I bought something.”
But that he was still there.
That he was still fighting to keep her by his side.
Then he wrote to me again months later and told me that, ever since he gave her that painting, the relationship had started to feel less and less distant,
Until he finally felt secure again and stopped being afraid she would leave him for someone else.
Or another client who had a simple photo with his partner.
One of those photos no one else would understand, but for them, it held an entire season of their relationship.
When he saw it turned into an oil painting, he told me it was no longer just a photo.
It was a way of remembering who they were before everything became routine.
And that is what makes me happy.
Knowing that I get to spend my life fulfilling other people’s dreams and my own at the same time.
That’s why I paint every brushstroke as if I might never get to paint another one.
Because honestly, who knows if any of us will still be here tomorrow?
