My artistic medium is mixed media on canvas. I like the way words mix with images, and often add poems, chocolate wrappers and torn pages of books to my paintings that can be serendipitous to the viewer. If you look closely, you’ll find all kinds of surprises.
As with most creative people, the process is a dance of becoming completely overtaken by the moment and not thinking. This “flow” is where the magic lies. I am very interested and constantly exploring the process of painting and being in this flow. It is much bigger than the work itself.
I feel I’m here to spread beauty. With my art I hope to do this. I hope you will find a little bit as you look around my site … Thanks for stopping by.
There is really only one person who knows most everything about me –Mollie. My sister lives in New Orleans and has a long and complex history there. One of living in many neighborhoods, and once proud homes with marble fireplaces and 15 ft doorways. The house on St. Charles St, for example, was the most grand, with its long, creaky stairway, tiny kitchens, immense living room, and ceiling-high windows. It was long past its [more]
Maybe some artists can pour their sorrows out on canvas, but not me. I need to be in the mood. Some kind of mood that is not too funky at least. So I typically start a studio day with a run or some form of exercise to get me out of my environment. Then I can really settle in to what I'm doing. Next: make tea, snacks, turn the heat up and get in my favorite painting shirt. Before turning on the music du jour, I'll often sit and [more]
"The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery" - Francis Bacon There is nothing like working hard on a body of art then seeing it well lit on big, beautiful walls. (Or as I accidentally said to a guest,"well hung and well lit.") Thanks to John Metcalf, we did so at the Independence Building in Ridgway this weekend. So much fun to then throw the party, and show up in hopes of handing our guests a little of the beauty [more]
My mom left me a tub of Pyrolean Red paint on her way home to South Carolina. This is the first summer I felt really misty eyed when they drove away. Every summer, mom and dad come to mean more to me. I don't know if it's a sense of time marching on, and my increasing awareness of the finite. Or maybe because my dog Jesse, who has been with me for 14 1/2 years, is slowly fading, and I am burying my face in his fur, and breathing [more]
Who names a painting "Prune Puffs"? That is so un-sexy. Somehow a vintage Prune Puff recipe ended up in this bike painting. I bought a bag of scrap paper at the Two Hands Paperie in Boulder while on a road trip, and these papers just circulate until they get slapped onto a painting. So Prune Puffs had its lucky day today, but who would make them anyway? Not exactly a scrumptious sounding dinner party delight. I did a little [more]
When you have been broken When you have been broken so completely All that remains is love Joy and sadness become the same Waves of absolution When Jesse leaves me when you touch me again I can feel them both coming real as the coming of winter In this morning sun I am only love and death I cannot deny the inevitable. When you have been completely broken there is nothing left to stop this flood [more]
I had five days off from my US Forest Service job surveying and chainsawing line in remote bays around Prince William Sound. I wanted to see more of Alaska. I wanted to climb mountains. So I took a Ranger friend's advice and hitchhiked to McCarthy to learn to ice climb. McCarthy, Alaska was a tiny town with a year round population of 25. It sat at the convergence of the Kennicott and Root Glaciers, the headwaters of the Copper [more]
Fall is my favorite season. If I could superglue every last golden, creamsicle colored leaf onto its branch I would. October brings with it preparation for one of my favorite holidays – Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead – and one of my greatest art influences. I don't know what it is about Latin American folk art. I may have been a Latina in a past life, with honey skin and thick black hair. With a sharp tongue and [more]
This evening loved me like no other its fingers on the wind, stroking every moment of this day i hold so perfect This gift to mountain dwellers this last warming light before winter spreads its bony fingers We will cling to warm mugs we will cling to warm bodies But not this afternoon, this eternal perfect moment [more]
This tiny little bike painting captures the sweetness that I strive to experience everyday. – simplicity, loveliness, flowers, and just cruising along with joy. This was a warm up for a bike commission I just finished, for a friend in South Carolina. WISH is a teal, silvery piece of glee with a WISH ticket in the basket. Every day I try to remember to set an intention. "Today I'm going to ...." This to me, is a form of a wish. [more]
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden I went to SQUAM Lake this week, deep in the glorious, clear air of New Hampshire, to teach art. I was invited by Elizabeth Duvivier, an endlessly creative and giving [more]