One morning I woke up and wanted to start drawing angels smoking cigarettes. So I did.

There's something about it – celestial beings taking a smoke break. We're all walking contradictions anyway. Divine and messy. The good, the bad, the imperfect.

In the last five months, I lost two cousins to tragic accidents. The second was a builder who worked with his hands, rode motorcycles, and lived on his own terms. He was 21.

His obituary ended with a request: build something in his memory, whether with your hands or your heart.

So here it is. Hand-drawn angels smoking cigarettes. Each one based on someone who's passed – people I admire, relate to, pulled from obituaries. Occasionally someone I knew. I take one detail from their life and work it into the drawing. Pen and paper.

I've always liked the line "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than die with the saints." These drawings live there – between reverence and irreverence, the sacred and the profane.