“A Seat at the Table”

This 36x48” oil on canvas is one of several portraits I’ve painted of Anthony Bourdain…it’s probably my favorite of all of them. I created it shortly after he passed away, as a way to honor someone I deeply admired, not just for his travels and sharp wit, but for his gift of connection.

Bourdain had a rare ability to sit down with anyone, anywhere in the world, and connect through something as simple as a shared meal. He used food as a gateway to empathy, listening, and mutual understanding. It wasn’t about the cuisine so much as the culture, the people, the conversation. He was a listener. Someone who knew that the dinner table was never really just about food.

I chose this image because it felt like him—surrounded by plates, dim sum baskets, tea cups, empty dishes, and that steady, thoughtful gaze. It reminds me of how much beauty there is in sitting down, staying curious, and really paying attention. This is my tribute to a storyteller who made the world feel a lot more connected.

“Before the Break”

This 16x20” oil on canvas is a self-portrait I painted in 2008, shortly after moving from Kauai to Phoenix. I had just left behind a beautiful life and close friendships on the island, and while I was trying to embrace the excitement of a new place, I was struggling emotionally. I was in a deeply unhealthy relationship, one filled with broken promises and growing despair. This portrait was my way of capturing that moment of quiet collapse: the sadness, the loneliness, and the stuckness that sinks in just before a breaking point.

Looking at it now, I see a woman on the verge of transformation. Though I didn’t know it then, this was the beginning of the end of that chapter. We eventually broke up, and it turned out to be the best decision I ever made. I’m now happily married, and this painting serves as a reminder of how far I’ve come, and how art has always helped me process pain and move forward.

“Joy From Every Angle”

Oil on canvas, 24”x30”

I loved the photo reference for this painting. The dog is upside down, wearing the kind of goofy, joyful smile that makes dogs so irresistible. I rarely paint animals or people from this angle, which made this painting both a creative challenge and a lot of fun to work on.

Her expression captured something so simple and pure: playfulness, love, and total trust. It reminds me of the ways animals teach us to be present and open-hearted. I think that’s why this painting stands out to me as one of my most unique and successful portraits. It radiates happiness.

“Unfolding”

Oil on canvas, 24”x30”

This painting is a close-up of a single rose from my garden, one that immediately struck me with its bold, sensual presence. The way the petals curled and layered, the richness of the red, and the hidden center all felt deeply symbolic and evocative.

“Looking Back”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This painting captures a quiet moment after a hike, beneath the Superstition Mountains in Arizona. My husband and I fell in love with this area, as well as one another, on these trails, parking in this very lot before hiking into the wild, desert beauty that stretched endlessly around us.

This scene is based on looking back at the mountains after one of those hikes. The moon had just risen, casting a peaceful light over the quiet motel and restaurant.

This painting represents more than just a beautiful place, it also serves as a reminder to me about that one time I fell in love.

“Evenings in Mesa”

This painting captures the view from a small shopping center across the street from where I lived in Mesa, Arizona. I’ve lived in many places; Kansas City, New Jersey, California, Hawaii, and none of them had skies like Arizona. When the clouds rolled in and the sun began to set, the sky could light up in ways that stopped you in your tracks.

This painting was inspired by one of those evenings. I wasn’t anywhere special, just a local parking lot, but the sky was unforgettable. I wanted to capture that moment, with palm trees silhouetted against the fiery horizon and the glow of shop lights flickering on as day faded into night.

Arizona sunsets, especially when clouds were present, always felt like magic at the end of the day.

“D’vine Days”

Acrylic on Canvas, 16” x 20”

This painting is a tribute to my years in Mesa, Arizona, and a wine bar called D’vine. When I first moved to Arizona from Hawaii, I was searching for a place to share my art. I drove around with paintings in the car, hoping someone would let me hang my art. D’vine welcomed me with open arms.

They let me hang paintings from floor to ceiling throughout their restaurant. If a painting sold, the staff would run credit cards for me and/or hold the cash until I picked it up. The owner and manager were incredibly supportive, and over time, I started working there as a hostess, which helped me get to know customers and staff even better. It wasn’t just a place to hang art, it became a second home and a family.

This painting is an abstract self-portrait of sorts. It’s of me, sitting at the bar, enjoying a glass of wine, surrounded by vibrant memories and pieces of myself. Though I’ve since moved to New York, D’vine still stands today under the same ownership, and I’ll always think of them with love and gratitude.

“Engine 411 - Queen Creek”

Oil on Canvas, 24” x 36”

This painting depicts Engine 411 from Queen Creek Fire & Medical, the firehouse where my husband served as an EMT. After spending most of his life as a chef, he made a courageous career change at nearly 50 years old, going back to school to become an EMT, something he had been dreaming of.

Joining this firehouse was a pivotal moment for him. He loved the work, the people, and the purpose. He was even deployed to multiple hurricanes, including Hurricane Michael…a strange and fitting twist, since that’s also his name.

This painting was my way of thanking the department that gave my husband a new beginning and brought him so much joy and fulfillment. I donated it to the firehouse before we moved to New York.

“Petal to the Metal”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This self-portrait began with all the usual intentions, mainly to get it “right.” But nothing was working. The colors, the background, the mood - all of it felt wrong. In a moment of total frustration, I grabbed black paint and covered the background, then added yellow petals around the head, almost sarcastically. And just like that, everything shifted.

I laughed. I felt joy. The painting was suddenly alive, and looked a hundred times better!

What I thought was a failure became one of my favorite paintings. It reminds me not to take myself, or my art, so seriously. Creativity doesn’t always show up in the way we planned. Sometimes frustration is just part of the process, and what feels like a mistake is actually an invitation to loosen up, let go, and try something different.

This painting forced me to play. To pivot myself out of frustration. It helped me see that joy and humor are always options.

“After the Fall”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This is a portrait of my husband during one of the hardest chapters of our relationship. It came after a painful turning point in our marriage, a time when everything we knew about each other, and ourselves, was being questioned. But this painting isn’t about the moment of hurt; it’s about what came after.

It’s about the work.

The long, uncomfortable, and deeply human process of listening, taking responsibility, and choosing to change. Through therapy and honest conversations, we both began to rebuild. He took accountability in ways I didn’t expect, and I began looking inward too, realizing how much I had disconnected, pouring everything into my art while unintentionally neglecting our partnership.

This painting holds all of that. The weight. The reflection. The strength it takes to stay. We both caused pain, and we both stood beside each other in it. A relationship cracked open and slowly, intentionally mended.

We didn’t go back to what we were, we became something new.

“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, like a simple patch of sunlight.

“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 emptiness. I lived in Phoenix for over a decade, and have always been drawn to the contrast of living in a bustling area set in the middle of nowhere. Vegas seems even more wild, fast, and alive, yet it’s surrounded by miles of open desert and sky.

This painting captures the view from above. Vegas, as a grid of movement, color, and electricity set against the vast quiet of the desert land. It’s both bright and isolated at the same time.

“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 companions…steady, observant, and part of the peace I feel. I painted this from memory as much as sight, trying to capture the comfort of a view I experience regularly.

“Backyard Light”

Oil on canvas, 16” x 20”

This is the view from my kitchen window. It’s a quiet landscape that brings me a lot of peace. I’ve painted it more than once, always drawn to the way the light shifts over the hill and how the clouds move across the sky.

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, every version captures a different mood and 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.