I was having dinner at a local restaurant with my friend, Mauryn. In the middle of a story, she catches a man’s eye across the room. Her eyes widen, and her mouth drops open in delighted

surprise: “What are YOU doing here?!” Her husband was the unexpected vision across the room. He and a friend had chosen the same spot to get a drink at the bar. After about five minutes of conversation, we waved farewell to them as they sauntered over to the bar. This painting was born of the feeling I got from watching that short interaction. I was so struck by their connection, friendship, and the genuine excitement this little surprise evoked from each of them. I asked Mauryn to send me her favorite photo of the two of them together. I hung that photo on my wall beside a large blank canvas, which I walked past daily for weeks. Occasionally my right brain sent me ideas, images that would capture the essence of what they felt like together, and what it felt like to be in their presence. The end result is a lively, colorful, playful, whimsical, unique, grounded, graceful, loving and safe partnership. May we all be so fortunate.

Phase 3 of… many

This oil painting  was created at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco.  I grew up in Florida spending lots of time on the ocean, in transit or deep-sea fishing.  When I stumbled upon this spot, it immediately looked to me like a well-deserved moment of peace.  Ocean work is, of course, visually stunning, and provides a sense of aliveness as you’re out with the elements.  But there is always wind to battle and navigation to tend to on top of — in this case — fishing lines to cast and reel in, all while working up a sweat in the hot summer sun.  At the end of these types of days you experience a heavy-body fatigue, the need for a big meal with salty flavors and a sweet drink, and anticipation of rock-solid sleep, just as you would after a day-long hike, or hours of surfing, or several runs down challenging ski slopes.  That’s what I saw in these boats: they had returned safely to the harbor, and were relishing their much needed moments of respite.

I built this painting from the background forward.  Knowing the harbor water had a green hue, I began with a warm reddish wash of gesso.  This technique of using complementary colors as an underpainting adds depth and life to the final image. I enjoyed many moments of color-mixing for this piece — like creating those rust colors that drip down the sides of the blue fishing boat, and the various shades of the old crusty anchor.  You know you’ve hit on the right color when you can feel it in your gut — you want both to admire and devour it!  The variety of materials in the image — metal, rock, glass, cloth, rope, water, wood — provide many areas for your eyes to explore.  Lastly, the highlights — by far the most fun to paint.  There are some surprises that show up better in person than in the photograph, but what a fun experience to add, literally, a dot of color (usually a bright orange or bright light yellow) in an area and see the depth and focus of the entire image transform!

“Resting in the Harbor, San Francisco” 30″ x 40″, Oil $2,500

This was the beginning of my foray into mixed-media work, and it was such a joy to create! I started by taping about 12 pages of 8″x10″ watercolor paper to a wall. I had a large variety of materials to play with (acrylic paint, charcoal sticks, inks, pastels, colored pencil, and images. I also had a page filled with descriptive and opposite words: big/small; thick/thin; bold/subtle; light/dark. The approach was to choose one word at a time, choose a medium for that word, and make a mark on the page that matched the word. I found this much more freeing and fun than what had been my typical approach to starting a piece. (Before this I began pieces by measuring, starting in the middle, and meticulously matching colors and image to recreate what I was seeing onto the page. ). After the first pass I had what you now see as the chicken’s nest. Over the course of several days I added color, images and elements as the story unfolded. What most people would never notice is that the image in the upper left is that of a Black sharecropper from around the 1960’s in Texas. This was long after that wretched practice in American history should have been illegal. I’ve always had massive respect and affinity for the African-American culture. I admire their ability to maintain grace, joy, humanity, family, and tradition. They do so regardless of the injustice our countries’ practices have thrown their way. The title has a double-entendre. The roosters and hens literally call us to rise up. And many African-Americans have called on our culture to rise up. They have demonstrated what it means to rise up, day after day, decade after decade.

I find mixed-media work so joyful and fun to create because the work and the story develop as you play with the piece. After a free-form base layer is applied, marks and shapes begin to create ideas and stories. You sit with it, stare at it, over the course of days, or weeks, even months. New ideas emerge over time, and the next layer is added. “Ruby” was actually two pieces prior to becoming this one. The base layer is a multi-media collage made of writing and painted papers I created. I over-worked my original idea. In my effort to salvage the piece, I added an acrylic painting over top that transformed the style and feel of the piece. But this layer also ended up over-worked, with muddied colors. It was the perfect opportunity to use the overpainting technique, used at times by artists such as Gerhard Richter. Using a thick layer of cream-colored acrylic, I covered most of the original work. The few areas where previous layers shown through presented an entirely different story that required new design elements and materials. In the past I have not been a fan of 3-D elements in paintings; the magic of a skilled painting after all is that 2-D marks create a very real illusion of a 3-D space. But this piece called for a 3-D nest-like feature. It is made of coffee-soaked glassine paper, and thread. The text is from a book handed down by my grandparents; it is from the 1938 edition of the Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary (pictured below). My copy is bound in leather, embossed with gold, with carved jade embedded in the cover. I’ve always loved the look and feel of the cover and pages. The floral sketch and definitions included in “Ruby” add a reverent, timeless element. It also reminds me of the cataloging phenomena begun in the 1700’s by Carl Linnaeus, with his publication of Species Plantarum. The piece has some loose and some tight boundaries, while also conjuring an appreciation nature. Overall I love it’s sense of movement, space and freedom.

Sometimes it’s fun to paint papers and sketch, with no preconceived idea of what you want the end result to convey. Along the way, design “problems” arise. As you solve those step by step, colors and composition take shape. They give rise to a story within the piece. The end results here are whimsical, hand-drawn birds, decorated with hand-painted papers, collaged on board painted with acrylic paint. Their individual titles speak to the mood of each small piece below.

The handmade papers came to life first. Design and color composition came next. The poem — created by etching through heavy body acrylic black paint painted over a bright yellow background — is stream-of-consciousness related to birds, rhythm, rhyme, and my mood at the time.

Aside from being an artist, I am also a CranioSacral Therapist. For about 1.5 years I was honored to provide this healing work to veterans. Most veterans I treated served in Afghanistan, Iran and Iraq. They ranged in age from 20-something to thier late 50’s, but their ailments were strikingly

similar: physical aches and pains, chronic headaches, chronic difficulty sleeping, and PTSD that would take time to heal. This photograph reminded me of their journey. Every now and then, the culmination of their training and bravery yielded miraculous moments. Other times were rough and ragged, and reasons for carrying on were hard to find. But something in them kept them striving for peace and justice; for the light at the end of the tunnel.

As far as I’m concerned, winter in New England is 3 months too long.  But every once in a while the weather breaks and we get a sunny, 55-degree day.  This painting is from one such day.  My boyfriend and I took a spontaneous drive up to Portland, Maine and had a late lunch at an amazing little restaurant.  The warm, orange, winter light captured in this piece is my favorite.  I intentionally painted this still-life in the style of American artist Wayne Thiebaud, using luscious colors and lively, contrasting highlighted areas. For me this painting embodies appreciation for the small, gorgeous moments that make life rich with meaning and memories. It represents freedom and connection, and it gives thanks for the wisdom passed on from those who came before us. It’s a snapshot from a special date trip we’ll be talking about for years to come!

Initially this piece was one of many pages in a book remembering my ancestors. I liked it so much as a stand-alone piece, I unbound the book and removed it. It reminds me of a day

celebrating a family reunion. We were gathered around a swimming pool during the day. Time and again, when songbirds flew low over the pool, their breasts took on a teal glow from the pool water. Foraging in the woods with my young nieces and nephews took up a few late-afternoon hours. And the night ended with grilling dinner in the backyard surrounded by party lights. The tree bark and moss included in this piece came from that day. Other papers and portions of the map were hand-painted. Maps remind me that supports surround us, even when life feels complicated. They will lead us where we need to be. We need only seek out the signs and ask for guidance.

These are some images showing the development of one of my favorite paintings.  It’s a scene from Los Angeles, at the home of author Aldous Huxley (best known for his futuristic novel A Brave New World). My niece, on the left, used to live across the street.  His widow was a lively woman, and she would often invite the neighborhood kids over to swim.  I fell in love with the composition of this image, the colors, and the mood — young best friends caught in conversation, playing at the chic LA lifestyle, not taking it at all seriously.  Interesting fact: my niece Odessa has appeared in 3 of my favorite pieces.  I love her sister Sigourney just as much — I promise!  When you stand in front of this painting the bricks really reach out toward you in 3-D space, adding a fun “trompe l’oeil” element.

“The Brave New World, 84 Years Later”, 4′ x 5′, Oil

“Cacao & Lime” 4’x4′ Oil  $2,800 — SOLD

This is the first painting I completed after having been away from art for 13 years.  I love its luscious colors, the state of wonder, appreciation and gratitude I feel when I view it, and I love that it’s so big!

I was attempting to commission a piece for a friend.  He wanted a different image in the end, but I fell in love with this one.

It was purchased by a professor in Lexington, MA.  I hear it is “in the dining area, and everyone who comes over just loves it”.

I was terrified of painting the tureen, and had no idea where to start.  Somehow the day I did it, it flowed fast.  Here is the palette I used.

And, again, SOMEHOW… most of this 4-foot painting was done with these two tiny brushes.  This photo represents their actual size.

When my niece Sigourney started college in Edinburgh, Scotland I was so excited for her. And I was so proud she was secure enough to make such a bold choice. But I also feared she would

miss family more than she could imagine. She had studied abroad in Spain for a semester during highg school, but all her life, she had lived in SUCH close quarters with her parents and younger sister. I thought the distance, what I imagined would be dreary weather, and dorm life would be a rough transition. So I wanted to send her off on a positive note. In the background is the famous castle of Edinburgh. Siggy loved anime at the time, so I found some cute characters and schoolbus to incorporate into this mixed-media collage. A magazine page with an Ace of spades in an advertisement ended up on my workspace one day. I realized it would serve as a good luck charm emerging from the castle, so I drew that in. The fluffy pink bird added cheer to a piece, and it perfectly mirrored the color of the flowers below. The text is my message to Sigourney in the mood of a fairy tale, with a nod to poet Mary Oliver, and the spirit of my grandparents, her great-grandparents.

We flew across the ocean to get her settled into college life 🙂

“Ready, Set…” 4′ x 4′ Oil  $3,000 — SOLD

By now you can tell I have a thing for water.  Another piece I fell in love with for the size, colors and composition, and the sense of motion that is about to happen.  If you know my niece you look at the legs and can feel “yep, that’s Odessa”.  The flippers — their colors, and the distortion caused by the water — was also fun to complete.  I rented a truck online using Relay Rides (now Turo.com) — a truck, incidentally, owned by another artist — to drive the painting to it’s buyer’s home in New York.

“Getting Ready” 5′ x 5′ Oil on canvas $3,000

This painting, five feet high and five feet wide, has been through a lot (*shipping story below).  It was created in 1993, in the garage of the home where I grew up in Florida.  It’s the last thing I painted before leaving for college.  Little did I know I would not complete another painting for 13 years after this one.

During those 13 years, it was always a big, bold reminder of what I could do.  Wherever it was hung, people would see it, take a deep breath and say “oh cool”.  Making that spontaneous reaction errupt from people — that, for me, is art.

*In order to ship this from Florida to Boston, my mom and step-father hitched a ride from a landscaper — the only person they knew with a truck big enough to fit it.  While crossing the bridge, the canvas billowed like a sail on a sail boat and almost took flight with my step-dad in tow.

Rather than portraits being of a person seated — a person forever captured in a staged moment — I like to create portraits that embody one’s personality.  Put together, these two images formed the perfect portrait of a good friend.  She is someone who everyone likes, and noting makes her happier than heading out for adventure, coffee in hand, on a beautiful Saturday.

“Saturdays”  40″W x 30″H  Oil $2,800

This painting was a combination of an old watercolor and a replica of an image from a greeting card.  Putting the two together, for me, created a representation of what it was like to be a kid on my best days.

“Footloose” 10″ x 12″ Oil on Clayboard $225 — SOLD

“Max”  48″W x 36″H  Oil  $1800 — SOLD

A portrait of a friend’s spunky daughter.  As with “Remember When”, the hair was my favorite part to paint.  I love the casual nature of the moment — something the family goes through every day, but when you pause to think about it, it’s precious.  Below you’ll see the first layer of paint, used to add a warm undertone to the final layer of white

“Portrait for Dad” 12″ x 14″, Oil

Dad is great with big toys.  Growing up, he was a super-focused, safe, skilled airplane pilot.  He also had a boat.  This boat created tons of adventures, fun memories and vacations for friends and family.  (Yes, we were spoiled, but we knew it, we appreciated it, and we included others in the experience.)  It took us to places like Hilton Head, South Carolina, where we got to sleep on the boat at night, and explore during the day.  It took us snorkelling in the Bahamas, deep-sea fishing in the Florida ocean we grew up near.  It took us out on the river for 4th of July to watch fireworks and listen to America’s Top 40 (yeah, that was popular in the 80’s).  Many dozens of people have great stories and memories from time spent on this boat.  Mechanics unfortunately took advantage of a situation and over-charged for so many fraudulent repairs that it had to be sold.  That was a sad day.  This painting was gifted to my dad so he could look at it each day and remember the great experiences he created for us all.

My uncle, Duke, was a force in the family — a force for love and living each day to its fullest.  He passed away March 18, 2016.  You couldn’t say “no” to Duke, but you also knew that, even if you felt like it, you didn’t really WANT to say no, because he was probably asking you to join him in something active, creative, something that was good for building character.  

These  two paintings are the only ones — out of 19 in my recent show — that sold.  Interesting fact: They were painted from photos taken at his memorial service and the day afterward spent with family.  I don’t need to make that mean anything, but I will take it as a nod from him up above, sending my a signal to keep going with this crazy pursuit that is Professional Artist.  If he could hear me tell this story, he would neither confirm nor deny; rather he would smile, nod as if to say “Ok, interesting.”  Then he would utter the understated words of support he was known for, while waving his hand and moving on to one of his many projects: “Very good, carry on.”

“Take Your Time With Me” Mobile — GIFTED

After a break-up, I was particularly sad, and wrote a free-verse poem to get thoughts out of my head.  I had been given a gift card to Michael’s craft store.  Somehow I had the idea to create mobiles.  This was the first.  It’s a beauty — much more durable than you’d imagine.  The frame is made with wire that came surrounded by a burlap-like fabric.  I added parchment paper and suede fabric to create the windows.  The door can open and close.  The front door is set with a copper-wire flower; I used materials from a window winter insulation kit to “set” the flower.  Somehow I created a dowel that rotates, so you can open the door and pull out the scroll to read the poem.    This was purchased by a woman who’s mother had recently moved to a facilitated living home.  It was a hard transition, but both love art.  It now hangs in the mother’s window at her group home.

Like “Take Your Time With Me”, this one is another mobile with a love poem (on the back, not visible in photos).  The poem is about rolling around with that special someone — wrestling, nibbling, playing.  One day while that was happening, it dawned on me: this is what lions and tigers and cats oh my! do  They’re not fighting.  Affection is just fun.          

“You Are Here” Mobile — Gifted

The largest words around the top rim of this piece read: your life is all just a reflection of YOU  This piece was inspired by the most true but most vexing phenomenon of being human: there is nobody out there.  It’s as if everything and everyone in life is a hologram that we project our thoughts and feelings on to and react to.

Imagine a stage with an audience nearby.  On the stage is your mother.  Standing on stage next to your mother is her neighbor, her ex-husband, her boss, her high school English teacher, your father and her dentist.  You are in the audience.  One by one, you ask each person standing next to your mother, “who is my mother?  what kind of a person is she?”  Each person will have a different opinion.  Some opinions may be similar, some may be extremely different.  So here is the question:  Which one is your mother?

Well, they all are.  Each experience of your mother is true for that person AND, at the same time, there is no “your mother” out there.  She does not exist as one thing seen through the eyes of all people.  She exists as multiple things depending on who’s eyes are doing the seeing.

What I’m saying is, everything you think or have to say about life and the people in it has nothing to do with them and EVERYTHING to do with you.  You are the one who has chosen to see it/them that way.  Henry Ford might explain it like this: “whether you think you can, or you think you cannot, either way you are right”.  So practice believing the best about life and the people you come across; if you are making it all up anyways, you may as well make up good stuff. 

Below you can see the images that inspired this painting.  It was sold to a person who bought it for her best friend as a birthday present.

Continuing on with the foodie theme… I showed this painting to a friend, and right away he said, “A burger with beet fries from Grass Fed (a restaurant in Boston)!”  Exactly.

“Burger Night” 11.5″ x 14.5″ Oil on board $525

“Fun”  10″W x 10″H  Oil on Board  $225 — SOLD

While working on a large canvas, I noticed at the end of a couple of days I had a decent amount of oil paint on my palette that had dried out before I got to use it.  Oil paint is an expensive, precious commodity, so I decided that at the end of every painting session, I’d use up any leftover oil paint on a smaller canvas to create smaller, spontaneous pieces like this one.  I love the bright colors in this one.  It ended up looking like a festive cake.  I used to be a preschool teacher, and it was purchased by the father of one of my preschool kids.  Hopefully it’s in a spot that reminds the family to live up to its title.

“Loved”  10″W x 10″H  Oil on Clay Board — Gifted

As mentioned in the “Fun” post, any time I was painting on a large canvas I would have a decent amount of precious oil paint on the verge of drying out before I got a chance to use it.  That “leftover” paint was used to create this series.  This was the first in the series, and came out looking like a birthday present.  And how do we feel when we receive birthday presents?  Loved.

“Submerged”  10″W x 10″H  Oil on Clayboard  $175

The final rendition of this painting had a very high gloss, and you could not see the word “Submerged” (I re-did the painting to hide the word; that the image looked to be floating in water was so obvious, no descriptor was needed.)  It sat wrapped and stored for a couple of years.  Recently, one of my massage clients saw the image on-line (yes, I’ve also been a licensed and nationally certified massage therapist since 2005).  She mentioned it as one of her favorites.  It was serving no purpose wrapped in storage, so she got a gift the other day after her massage.