All of my work is dedicated to my husband Richard and our daughter Roma, may your body spare others.

When I was a little girl this watercolor of my mother created by a close friend of hers in high school hung near my grandmother’s bed. It was my first exposure to art after having only been around Jesus motifs (I find it odd now that I never considered those religious paintings art, more like “photos”). I would spend lazy afternoons lying on that lovely bed whose intricate frame I envied and admire this painting.

Fast forward through my own art journey. Early art loves of Salvador Dali to current passions of Matisse, Xenia Hausner, Mickalene Thomas, Bonnard, David Hockney, Monet, and a dazzling array of other artistic visionaries who in their passion capture something other than a copy of life. A soul. For the religious it is the evidence of a god or gods, for others the proof of talent, and for me, a reflection of ourselves; of our own unique burning light.

I strive to ensure that my work is not obvious. In a world where outside forces so desperately want to tell us what to think, I want to encourage reflection and connection. While my series do have a meaning to me, I am much more interested in their meaning to the viewer.

My approach to art is much more technical. Enchanted by an idea, concept, or object, I create a painting and then while creating, a new idea will form. Usually along the lines of “what would happen if I do this next time?” and then I proceed to create the next painting from that thought. Daisy chaining a dizzying number of minorly tweaked paintings; that is when I am in my element. When the soggy pockets of my mind hold hands with my heart (or soul?) and the muscles in my fingers.

The watercolor of my mother now resides in my home. In a place where I may gaze upon it daily and remember those early years of awe when a simple high schooler’s assignment captivated my heart and enchanted my eyes. A reminder that art is not about the artist, but the viewer.