Kendall Pace Art
Blue Buffalo 50"x 38" framed, recycled aluminum cans on board
Inspired by the American West's rugged beauty, I crafted this piece to honor its iconic symbol: the American bison (commonly called buffalo). I selected the bison over bears, wolves, foxes, or mountain lions for its embodiment of vast landscapes, resilience, and cultural significance—recalling herds that shaped prairies and sustained Indigenous peoples for millennia. This piece is made entirely from recycled aluminum cans, cut and arranged into the bison's profile, symbolizing renewal and sustainability. I challenged myself with a four-color palette: two blues for depth, orange (blue's color wheel opposite) for contrast, and yellow for warmth, creating a vibrant sunset backdrop. The bison's history in the Southwest spans from the Great Plains to Mexico's Durango and Nuevo León. Millions roamed pre-settlement, supporting ecosystems through grazing. For tribes like the Pueblo, Navajo, and Apache, it provided essentials and spiritual meaning. This artwork evokes the bison's revival, urging protection of heritage and sustainability.
Bucking Bronco 50"x 50" framed, recycled aluminum cans on board
This piece captures the raw thrill of a bucking bronco and its determined rider—an explosive moment of grit, freedom, and untamed energy set against a glowing dusk sky. As a lifelong horse lover, I wanted to start the Year of the Fire Horse with this image. I have many childhood memories of playing with plastic horses over dolls, the dizzying excitement of the Houston Rodeo, and the endless pull of the American West—wide open spaces, wanderlust, and spirituality found in nature's vast cathedral. Built from countless colorful scraps, the piece bursts with chaos, color and life; shift your view, and the light reveals new layers, mirroring the wild spirit of the ride itself.
Our Lady of Guadalupe 50" x 38" framed, recycled aluminum cans on board
Commissioned for a client in Austin, Texas. This famous image is a vibrant piece reimagining Our Lady of Guadalupe—a profound symbol revered across Catholic and Protestant traditions, and especially cherished in Mexico and Latin America. The image draws from the miraculous 1531 apparition to Indigenous peasant Juan Diego near Mexico City, where the Virgin Mary, identifying as the Mother of God, requested a church be built on the site. When the bishop demanded proof, she instructed Juan Diego to gather out-of-season Castilian roses in his cloak; upon opening it, the roses cascaded out, revealing her image miraculously imprinted on the tilma fabric—preserved today in the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Rich with layered symbolism, she stands on a crescent moon (victory over darkness and ties to Indigenous moon imagery), supported by an angel bridging heaven and earth, her blue mantle adorned with stars mapping the constellations visible on December 12, 1531. The roses evoke divine intervention, purity, love, and the fusion of Old and New Worlds.
Clint Eastwood 72" x 48" recycled aluminum cans on board
Commissioned for a ranch in Utah, this piece captures the essence of the American West with undeniable flair. I drew inspiration from a vintage image of Clint Eastwood in one of his legendary spaghetti westerns, where he epitomizes the rugged outlaw—channeling warmth through his stoic charm, resilience in facing adversity, longevity as a Hollywood icon spanning decades, and unyielding grit that defines frontier spirit. Crafted entirely from recycled aluminum cans, meticulously cut and assembled into a vibrant mosaic, this portrait transforms everyday waste into a symbol of enduring strength and sustainability. As my largest work to date, it stands an impressive 6 feet tall and 4 feet wide, commanding presence like the vast Western landscapes it honors Clint Eastwood, both as an actor and a man, mirrors the West's timeless qualities: a blend of quiet determination and bold action that has inspired generations. I truly love the West and all it embodies—its history, heroes, and horizons—and plan to focus more on unique Western-themed pieces moving forward.
Quanah Parker 50" x 38" framed, recycled aluminum cans on board
The Comanche weren't a footnote to Western expansion, they were an empire. For more than a century and a half they out-traded, out-rode, and out-fought Spain, France, Mexico, the Republic of Texas, and the United States, controlling a domain larger than most European nations and building the horse culture the American cowboy inherited. They were a confederation of bands, decentralized by design, hard to defeat and harder to negotiate with. "Principal Chief of the Comanche Nation" was a title the U.S. invented after the surrender. They gave it to Quanah. His mother, Cynthia Ann Parker, was taken as a child and so thoroughly Comanche by adulthood that when she was "rescued" she starved herself grieving the life she'd lost. Quanah held out longer than anyone, surrendering in 1875 as the last free Comanches on the southern plains. Then he built a second life: cattle rancher, Washington negotiator. He kept his braids, his wives, his peyote, and wore the suit when he had to. He's in the Bob Bullock Museum because you cannot tell Texas without him. If you love the West - horses, rodeos, ranches, wide-open sky - then we should honor the people who shaped that land long before the cattle drives. Before there was Texas, there was Comancheria.
Hermano del Caballo 36 x 48" unframed, recycled aluminum cans on board
The charro is the formal Mexican equestrian tradition, the cultural ancestor of the American cowboy. For nearly five centuries, Mexican horsemen have carried the disciplines of ranching, roping, and horsemanship from the haciendas of Jalisco into what is now Texas and the American Southwest. Charrería was declared Mexico's national sport in 1933 and named to UNESCO's Intangible Cultural Heritage list in 2016. Every cowboy who ever swung a lasso learned from this tradition, whether he knew it or not. I built this piece to honor that lineage, and to honor the intimate bond that has always been at the heart of it, between a horseman and the horse he trusts. The wide-brimmed sombrero, the silk moño, the working shirt are all here, but so is the quiet moment before or after the ride, when the two of them simply stand together. The palette was almost entirely supplied by the cans already in the studio and a few sourced this week: powder-blue Waterloo in the horse, Fresca in his shirt, deep Coca-Cola red for his moño, the golds and warm ochres of Modelo, Corona, and Coors Banquet for the sombrero and the ground. Every fragment came from something that was going to be thrown away, although almost all cans beg you to recycle. Every color was already there, waiting to be given a new purpose and turned into something lasting.