“Travis Scott”

Oil on canvas, 36”x36”

This commissioned portrait request of rapper Travis Scott came from a sweet woman I knew in Arizona, who wanted it for her son. What makes this painting especially memorable for me is the timing. She ordered it just before COVID hit.

I had already started the painting when businesses began to shut down. She was a waitress and suddenly unable to work, like so many others. When I checked in, she told me she still wanted the painting, but there was absolutely no rush. With that reassurance, I slowed my pace. What would normally take me weeks stretched into months, maybe triple my usual time. And it felt good. Without a deadline looming, I could spend long, unhurried days in the studio, working at my own rhythm. It was a tricky painting, and that freedom made it a better experience. Rushing seems to always creates problems for me.

While I painted away in my studio, the world outside felt uncertain and somewhat frightening. Eventually, COVID began to ease, businesses reopened, and I put the final touches on the portrait. Shipping it to Arizona was the last surprise - $200 to send a 36”x36” painting at the time. I was completely shocked. Now, five years later, as I work on another commission of the same size, I’m really hoping the shipping won’t be quite as steep.

“Green Cathedral”

Oil on canvas, 24”x30”

I came across this scene while hiking in New York, looking up through the canopy and feeling completely wrapped in green. New York has the brightest, most vivid greens I’ve ever seen, especially in its trees. Where I live now is also surrounded by trees, and the air feels richer, cleaner, and more alive.

This painting captures a peaceful moment, branches weaving across the sky, sunlight filtering through layer upon layer of leaves, with glimpses of blue peeking through and making the greens hum. The network of branches threads the surface, creating a composition that feels almost like stained glass, each shape defined yet alive, shifting with the wind.

It was just an ordinary walk in the woods until I slowed down and looked up. Then it became extraordinary.

The best part of this painting’s story is that my sister, one of my biggest art supporters and an artist herself, owns the painting and hangs it in her art studio.

A quick selfie with the finished painting.

“A Conversation”

Adult me: “I thought we were done with this kind of childish behavior.”

Childish me: (hangs head) “Me too. But I couldn’t help myself. I think I blacked out. I was telling myself all the things we talked about, “no pain, no gain”, and “you have to get out of your comfort zone to grow”, and “happiness is on the other side of pain”, and “just breathe”, and all of it. The next thing I knew, I was stabbing it with my paintbrush.

Adult me: “I see. But in the middle of your rage or your “blackout”, you had enough sense to switch tools to one that would stab the canvas much more effectively. Correct?”

Childish me: (Grins).

Adult me: (Sighs).

Childish me: (Grins).

Adult me: (Sighs).

Childish me: “You know it felt good though. You can’t deny that.”

Adult me: (Grins). “Yes. Yes it did.”

“George”

Oil on canvas, 18”x24”

This painting captures my grandfather, pipe in his mouth, eyes lowered, completely absorbed in what he’s doing. The bold pink of his shirt stands out against the pale, neutral background, adding warmth and drawing the viewer’s attention directly to him. The soft, muted backdrop allows his presence to fill the painting.

I painted this as a gift for my uncle, who is pictured beside it. He was very much there for me throughout my life, and giving him this portrait felt like the smallest way to thank him. My grandfather and uncle shared a deep bond, and now the painting serves as a reminder of both of them. Since my uncle’s passing, it has taken on even more meaning, becoming a cherished family keepsake, a reminder of two remarkable men I was lucky to have in my life, and the hope that one day, we’ll meet again.

“Piggy”

Oil on canvas, 24”x24”

This is Piggy, my beloved dog who passed away unexpectedly a few years ago. For a long time after her death, I couldn’t even bear to look at photos or videos of her, the loss was too sharp. It took a couple years before I could tentatively browse through photos. I painted this before she passed away, though I didn’t realize then how little time I had left with her.

The moment in this painting came while she and I were waiting in the car for my stepson (her favorite person) to get out of school. I was feeding her popcorn and filming as she ate it. After every bite, she would look up at me with those big, wide, beautiful eyes. The painting came from a still frame of that video. I left the background black so nothing could pull focus from her. It’s just Piggy, being my little Piggy, enjoying her popcorn and waiting for more.

Today, this painting hangs in a veterinary office in New Jersey. I hope it offers a moment of connection to anyone who sees it, a reminder of the bond we share with our animals, and how they stay with us long after they’re gone.

My husband pictured with Piggy the painting, and Piggy the dog. This photo is hard for me to look at because it was days before her passing.

“In Bloom”

Oil on canvas, 24”x30”

This painting is both intimate and bold. One day, while tending my rose bush in Arizona, I noticed a bloom that struck me as unusually sensual and unmistakably feminine. That’s exactly why I chose to paint it. When people giggle or blush while looking at it, I tell them, “It’s just a flower.” But of course, it’s not just a flower. The resemblance to the female form is the entire reason it exists on canvas, it’s large, unapologetic, and impossible to miss. My aunt eventually bought the piece and now has it hanging in her home. She bought it specifically because it looks like a……

“The Catch”

Oil on Canvas, 24” x 36”

This commissioned painting was created to celebrate a husband’s 50th birthday, honoring one of the most iconic moments in NFL history — “The Catch.” It captures the game-winning play in the 1981 NFC Championship between the San Francisco 49ers and the Dallas Cowboys.

The commission came from a couple I met years ago when I lived in Arizona and regularly hung my paintings at a wine bar called D’vine. They were both regulars there, and when his wife reached out to me after six years of living in New York, I was touched. It’s always meaningful when people from my past return to commission a painting.

What I love most about this piece is the balance between realism and painterly texture. The uniforms, helmet shine, and body proportions are true to life, yet the softer brushwork in the crowd and stadium keeps the focus squarely on the main figures. The rich red of the 49ers jersey pops beautifully against the cooler blue-and-white of the Cowboys uniform, creating an instant visual contrast.

The slightly blurred background mimics the way our eyes naturally focus in a high-adrenaline moment like this, adding a sense of immediacy. My goal was to capture not only the likeness of the scene, but also the energy and emotion of an unforgettable moment in sports history.

“Memory Collage”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

Painted in 2003, this painting comes from my earliest years of exploring abstraction. I had been experimenting with abstracts since 1998, balancing that with my deep love of portraits. Even then, I felt the pull to move between styles and subjects, a tendency that still shapes my work today.

This painting is a snapshot of that time in my life. It’s filled with symbols that once held specific meaning, some tied to people I knew, others almost like doodles. The composition blends intentional imagery with spontaneity, allowing randomness and memory to overlap. The muted colors differ from my palette now, yet they carry the mood of that period.

It may not be my most technically refined work, (not even close), but it holds a special place for me. It’s a reminder of where I started. I still paint abstracts in a similar style today, but they are far more refined, and I continue to explore different ways to merge realism and abstraction.

“Raindrops”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

Yes, I had to try painting raindrops, and let me tell you, they were not quick and easy. Shame on me for expecting otherwise. Once I realized this was going to take much longer than I thought, I settled in and embraced the challenge. I’ve always been drawn to paintings of raindrops on windows. They give me such a comforting, safe feeling.

Here, the blurred blue and white background creates a dreamy, almost ethereal atmosphere, while the sharply defined droplets bring in a hyper-real, tactile element. The painting plays with focus: the viewer’s eye shifts between the crisp edges of the drops and the soft, shifting expanse behind them, almost like a memory coming into focus through the rain. It feels peaceful, yet a little wistful.

“Shifting Light”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

From my kitchen window in Millbrook, New York, I still can’t believe I get to see this view every day. The light here shifts constantly, casting movingy shadows across the rolling grassy hills, transforming the scene from hour to hour. The greens in New York are the most vivid I’ve ever seen anywhere, they’re as striking as a sunset, they are so rich and alive.

I’ve painted my backyard before, and I know I’ll paint it again. Each version captures its own moment in time, shaped by the sunlight and clouds of that day. This painting holds one of those afternoons when the clouds drifted lazily overhead and the grass glowed with a thousand shades of green. Even after six years, I’m still in awe that I get to live here and witness this beauty every day.

“Desert to Durango”

Oil on canvas, 12”x12”

This painting captures the feeling of a long drive, watching weather unfold far ahead on the horizon. It’s expansive and freeing, the kind of scene that makes you want to roll the windows down, take it all in, snap a few photos, (and paint it later).

For years, my husband and I made the eight-hour trip between Phoenix and Durango almost every other weekend to see his family. The route was gorgeous, a true Southwest journey through Payson, Holbrook, Gallup, and Farmington. Full of desert plains, shifting light, and endless sky, Colorado felt familiar to Arizona in many ways, but its skies held surprises: fast-changing weather, towering clouds, and bursts of color that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

This was one of those moments… a fleeting rainbow breaking through a storm. The skies of Colorado still stun me to this day. I will always appreciate those road trips and the beauty we witnessed along the way. We live in upstate New York now, which has its own kind of beauty, but nothing quite like those Colorado skies.

“Prickly Pear in Bloom”

Oil on canvas, 24”x36”

I’ve always thought of the prickly pear as a kind of desert flower. Technically it’s the fruit of a cactus, but to me it blooms just as beautifully. I painted this during my eleven years in Arizona, when splashes of color felt like small miracles. In a landscape of browns and golds, the sight of those magenta, jewel-like fruits glowing against pale green pads was unforgettable.

Maybe I’m biased. I still remember the taste of prickly pear ice cream in Mesa, Arizona, and the way the skies lit up after rare clouds rolled in at sunset. When you live somewhere with little greenery, your eyes become hungry for color, and the prickly pear delivers it in the most vibrant way.

Now that I live in upstate New York, surrounded by lush greens and endless blooms, I find myself missing the quiet expanse of the desert, and the way a single burst of color could hypnotize you. This painting takes me back to those eleven unforgettable years in the desert.

“Bleeding Heart”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This painting was a quiet way to paint love, and to pass it off as just another flower painting. Bleeding hearts, also known as Lamprocapnos spectabilis, allowed me to do just that. It’s a flower, yes, but it’s also a universal symbol. I could call this one of my “pretty flower paintings,” but really it’s about love, longing, and even sadness.

If I had painted an actual heart with a red drop or tear, I don’t think it would have been looked at twice. So I disguised my “bleeding heart” inside the real thing.

“Just a kiss”

Oil on canvas, 12”x12”

This painting sits deliberately at the edge. It is intimate and suggestive, but not explicit. It’s not just about a kiss…it’s about tension, censorship, and contradiction. It challenges the idea that intimacy is more “offensive” than violence.

I wanted to explore the line between what is considered acceptable and what is not. Why is violence so widely tolerated, even celebrated, while something as human as a kiss can provoke discomfort or offense?

This piece was made to question that imbalance. It is the most “appropriate” painting I could create that still pushes boundaries. It does not shout, but it does not whisper either. It leans in close and says, “This is just a kiss. So why does it bother you?”

“Silent Self-Portrait”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This self-portrait was painted during a time of immense chaos. It captures a moment of retreat, a turning inward in an effort to block out the noise. With my eyes closed, I’m not inviting the viewer in through a gaze. Instead, they’re left to observe quietly, as I listen inward, disappear, and surrender to stillness.

The slightly parted lips and closed eyes evoke silence. Despite the minimal elements…no open eyes, no background, no overt expression, the painting speaks volumes.

The brushwork is smooth but not overly blended, allowing each stroke to remain present and intentional. The limited palette of soft neutrals, rose tones, and gentle shadows contributes to the contemplative mood. It’s a portrait of inward focus, of surrender through stillness.

“Afterglow”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This painting isn’t tied to a specific place or memory - it’s not about nostalgia. It’s a mood, a feeling of warmth, safety, and quiet.

It doesn’t shout this feeling. It breathes it.

The soft, blended strokes and muted palette invite stillness. The layered light makes the scene feel half-remembered, like a dream you wake from gently. It holds the kind of comfort that comes from being far away, but completely at peace. It portrays the warmth and safety of distance, not the ache of it.

“Ocean Prayer”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This painting has a soulful, atmospheric presence. It’s less about the world we see and more about the one we feel. It isn’t tied to a specific place — it’s about emotion and quietness.

I wanted to capture the weight of silence, the kind that settles over everything just before, or just after, something big. That charged, suspended stillness.

The light on the water feels like a whisper, trying to break through the heaviness above. It’s a moment of emotional pause…brief, quiet, but full of meaning.

A kind of prayer, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Shift”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This landscape is restrained, yet filled with tension. A simple composition that’s emotionally rich. The long, rhythmic grooves in the sand create a sense of movement and repetition, almost meditative, while the sky above feels heavy and swollen with potential energy. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation.

It reminds me of the stillness before a shift. A storm is coming. Something is about to change.

“Linger”

Oil on canvas, 18”x24”

To me, this painting has a cinematic power to it. The ocean feels alive but gentle, its layered blues and greens moving with a rhythm that contrasts beautifully with the drama overhead. The horizon feels like a moment suspended between calm and chaos. The dark, brooding clouds above and the glowing, warm sunset below create a striking emotional contrast.

The light hanging on just a little longer before surrendering to the storm…that’s what inspired me to paint this scene.

“Tide and Time”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”, commission

This commissioned painting remains one of my favorites, particularly because it’s not posed. No forced smiles or staged expressions - just a shared moment of curiosity, connection, and play. There’s something timeless about the way these two children are absorbed in their own little world, completely unaware of the camera or the viewer.

I absolutely love when people send me photos like this…snapshots of real life. I can almost hear the waves breaking in the distance, feel the water and sand beneath their hands, smell the salt in the air. There’s a dreamlike quality to the light and reflections that makes the scene feel suspended in time.

It reminds me of childhood. These are the kinds of moments worth preserving in paint - unposed, honest, and full of quiet nostalgia.