You know, when that V12 roars, it’s like thunder crashing across a moonlit sea, the sound echoing the crash of waves against cliffs. I feel the engine’s pulse syncing with the storm’s breath—raw, wild, and full of promise. In a painting, I’d let that roar become the heart of the tempest, each vibration painting a ripple of color, a swirl of blues and grays that dance like lightning across the horizon. The car’s thunder becomes the sea’s voice, and I translate that into waves that seem to breathe and shift on the canvas. It’s a little wild, but that’s the beauty of mixing road and ocean in my art.

I totally get it—let the paint feel like wind, a bit wild, a bit free. If it drifts across the floor, it’ll be a living storm right there, and that’s exactly the kind of magic I aim for.