“The Painted Rose”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

The Painted Rose is as much about gesture and movement as it is about subject. The palette is limited but rich, with crimson, ivory, and golden tones that swirl together like a quiet storm, creating both harmony and tension. The splotches of red and the soft veils of gold don’t just describe a flower; they celebrate the act of painting itself.

The close-up composition removes all context, drawing the viewer into a world of color, rhythm, and form. Shapes become swirls. Petals become brushstrokes. The bloom itself blurs the line between realism and abstraction.

Though based on a real rose, this painting isn’t a literal rendering. It’s an exploration of color, light, and movement, filtered through instinct and emotion.

I wanted to capture both the softness and sensuality of the rose, and the rhythmic, almost beating energy of the spiral at its center.

It feels alive.

“Before the Rain”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

There’s a quiet intensity in the moments just before a storm…that charged stillness, the hush that falls over the landscape. Before the Rain captures that fleeting space in time: moody clouds rolling in, the ocean shifting in tone, and the beach caught between peace and anticipation.

The palette is limited but evocative: greenish blues feel lush and vibrant against the neutral sand, while stormy grays bring depth without becoming heavy. It’s not just a seascape, it feels like a mood. The brushwork is expressive but intentional. There’s tension in the air. The kind of moment that makes you stop walking and stare out at the water for a while.

Though this scene is from Kauai, where I lived for six years, this painting isn’t rooted in nostalgia. It’s one of my favorite landscapes, not because of memory, but because of the mood, the movement, the layered emotion it carries.

“Shirley”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This portrait is of my mother-in-law, Shirley…a kind, steady, and deeply loving woman. I had hoped to express my love and admiration for her through this painting, capturing not just her likeness but the warmth she radiates. I later gave the finished painting to her daughter, who has always shown me so much love and acceptance over the years. This painting was a way to honor them both.

“Winterface”

Oil on canvas, 14”x14”

This abstract self-portrait was painted in the aftermath of heartbreak…a quiet unraveling that I kept to myself. I didn’t talk about the pain or show it outwardly, but I expressed and let it live here, on canvas. On the surface, it’s just another “weird abstract,” but beneath it lies a swollen, tear-streaked face caught in a snowstorm of emotion.

The winter theme reflects the cold, empty feeling that followed the loss. Snowflakes fall silently, like all the words I never said.

Winterface was what I showed the world while I was quietly falling apart. Painting, especially abstract, has always been my way of telling a story and expressing myself without having to say a word.

“When the Sky Caught Fire”

Oil on canvas, 16”x 20”

This painting was inspired by a sunset I witnessed while walking in Red Mountain Park in Mesa, Arizona, a place I visited nearly every day when I lived nearby. That evening, the sky erupted in color, the clouds igniting in shades of crimson, gold, and violet. I painted it soon after, trying to capture not just the colors, but the feeling…that moment of awe when nature stops you in your tracks.

Arizona gifted me some of the most unforgettable sunsets I’ve ever witnessed, even after living in places like Hawaii, California, New York, and New Jersey. When clouds rolled in over the desert, it often meant something spectacular was about to unfold in the sky. Though I’ve since moved from Arizona to New York, those sunsets remain vivid in my memory, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.

“Where the Silence Was”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This painting was created during a time in my life when everything felt uncertain…personally, emotionally, and even artistically. I had always identified as a portrait and abstract artist, but something in me wanted to prove myself wrong about what I thought I couldn’t do. I believed I wasn’t capable of painting landscapes. It sounds strange to say now, but at the time, that self-imposed limit felt real.

So I set out to teach myself. I was going through a rough time outside of art and I needed something else to focus on. This painting was from that period of quiet determination and struggle. The snow-covered trees, painted with a muted calmness, became a kind of therapy.

This painting represents not just a new skill learned, but a turning point in how I saw myself as an artist, no longer boxed in by old stories. I now paint landscapes regularly, along with portraits, abstracts, and anything else I feel called to create.

“Xxxtentacion”

Oil on canvas, 24”x30”

This portrait of the late rapper Xxxtentacion was created as a birthday gift for my stepson, who deeply admired both the artist and his music. When I asked him if he could have a painting of anyone in the world, he didn’t hesitate, he chose Xxxtentacion.

I poured everything I had into this painting. Xxxtentacion was a huge influence on my stepson as well as his entire generation. As I painted, I listened to his music and found myself connecting with it. I ended up loving many of his songs too.

He was happy with the painting, and it still hangs in his room to this day. Being a stepmom can be tricky, and I was grateful to bond with him through art and music, two things powerful enough to bridge any gap.

“The Loop”

Oil on canvas, 12” x 12”

This painting is of Red Mountain Park in Mesa, Arizona…a place that quietly helped me through a major turning point in my life. After the end of a tumultuous six-year relationship, I walked this park 2–3 times a day with my three dogs, circling the large lake at its center, lap after lap after lap. That loop became my ritual, my therapy, and eventually, my bridge to something new.

It was here that I brought my current husband when we first met. He walked it with me as he quit smoking. We got to know each other on that path, walking through our own changes. This park saw the end of one life and the beginning of another.

This painting captures one of those walks, a blue, moody sky mirrored in the water. A moment of stillness in the middle of motion.

“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.

“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.

“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.