“Baby in the Sun”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This is Baby — my dog and companion for the past eight years. I caught this moment of her sunbathing and was struck by how completely at peace she looked. Dogs have a way of reminding us to slow down and appreciate the simple things in life, and in that quiet patch of sunlight, she seemed to be doing just that.

Painting her felt like a way to hold onto that feeling — the stillness, the warmth, the love. I focused on the soft light casting across her fur, the gentle curves of the blanket, and the way her ears caught the sun just right. More than a portrait, this is a tribute to her spirit and the calm joy she brings into my life.

“Desert Spark”

Oil on canvas, 36”x48”

I’ve loved Las Vegas for as long as I can remember—long before I got married there. It’s not just the lights or the energy, but the way the city feels like a spark in the middle of silence. I lived in Arizona for over a decade, and I’ve always been drawn to the contrast: Vegas is wild, fast, and alive, yet it’s surrounded by miles of open desert and sky. That tension between chaos and stillness feels like something I understand.

This painting captures the view from above—Vegas as a grid of movement, color, and electricity set against the vast quiet of the land. It’s both bright and isolated. That’s what makes me love it.

“Backyard Watchers”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

In this version of my backyard, my dogs are at the top of the hill looking down toward the house. They’ve always been my quiet companions—steady, observant, and part of the peace I feel in this space. I painted this from memory as much as sight, trying to capture the comfort of a view I know by heart.

It’s not just a painting of where I live. It’s a reminder of who’s there with me.

“Backyard Light”

Oil on canvas, 16” x 20”

This is the view from my kitchen window—a quiet landscape that has brought me peace through some of the hardest and most beautiful seasons of my life. I’ve painted it more than once, always drawn to the way the light shifts over the hill, how the clouds move like emotions across the sky. In this version, the shadows feel heavier, still, reflective—like a pause between two moments.

It’s a familiar view, but the light and shadows are never the same. I think that’s part of why I keep painting it—because every version captures a different mood or moment in time.

“The Ones I Carry”

Oil on canvas, 16” x 20”

This painting is a portrait of memory, grief, and healing. The central figures are my parents, both of whom passed when I was young. Around them are fragments—faces, features, and symbols—representing people and places that shaped me: moments of love, loss, betrayal, and longing.

Some of the imagery is rooted in specific memories: a childhood nickname, a distant landscape I once called home, a road that winds through time and pain. Other elements are more ambiguous—eyes that watched, mouths that hurt, ears that listened when I needed them to. Each piece carries weight, even if its meaning isn’t fully visible to the outside world.

This painting brings together people who are gone, people who remain, and people who still echo in my thoughts. It’s a visual language for the emotional weight I carry—and an attempt to give form to something that’s often invisible.