“Blue Rose”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This was my first completed painting of 2025, part of a series of flowers I had been exploring for several months. Flower paintings have always had a calming effect on me, the process is quiet, steady, and peaceful, and this one was no different.

Here, an all-blue palette transforms the rose into something both meditative and abstract. Without the distraction of multiple colors, the eye is drawn to the sculptural qualities of the petals: their curves, folds, and shadows, revealing a presence that is delicate yet strong.

I’ve found that flowers painted in shades of blue have an especially soothing effect. After finishing each painting, I hang it in my home for a while to see how it feels in daily life. This one, like my other blue flower paintings, radiates a calm and peacefulness.

“Introspection”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This commission holds a special place in my heart because it marked a turning point in my painting process. While creating it, I discovered a new way of working, a shift that has shaped every portrait I’ve painted since. I’ll never forget that this painting was the one that pushed me there.

Visually, the monochrome palette draws the eye to form, light, and texture. The interplay of soft and sharp edges in the water creates a rhythm that contrasts with the still, inward-turned figure.

This is a portrait that feels more like a story than a likeness. Even someone unfamiliar with the person can sense something personal in it. What I love most, beyond my own personal painting breakthrough, is the quiet intimacy it holds: a figure wrapped in stillness, introspective, surrounded by the gentle movement of water.

“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.

“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.

“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 painting 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 held 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.

“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.

“Evening Watch”

Oil on canvas, 16”x20”

This painting captures a peaceful moment I witnessed at Red Mountain Park in Mesa, Arizona, a place I used to walk regularly when I lived nearby. I was out doing laps at the park when I caught this scene just as the sun was setting and the lights around the lake started to glow. Something about it stopped me…the calmness of the water, the softness of the sky, the quiet silhouettes along the path.

What made it even more memorable was seeing a police officer chatting with local residents, just connecting as part of the community. It was a simple moment, but it struck me as warm, human, and meaningful.

I wanted to capture not just the visual beauty of the sunset, but the feeling of peace and the way evening light can soften everything, even the pace of life itself.

“Self Portrait in Pieces”

Oil on canvas, 24”x36”

This painting is built from pieces. Photos of past drawings, fragments of earlier paintings, a strange doodled face I once made, and circles cut from old artwork. At the time, I was floating, emotionally untethered, grasping at art to ground me. I lived alone and painted constantly. In an effort to find something solid, I began creating collages from my older work, stitching together scraps of my artistic past into something entirely new. This painting emerged from one of those collages.

The cartoonish figure at the center is a distorted self-portrait. It’s playful, strange, and fragmented. My sister’s face appears in the upper right corner, almost laughing at me and at the absurdity of life and the state I was in. During that chaotic time, she was my anchor, the quiet, steady presence who helped me feel less alone.

This piece is messy, funny, intimate, disjointed, and deeply personal. It’s not polished or pristine. It’s a visual diary entry, a record of a moment when I felt lost and was reaching backward and inward, trying to create my way into something more solid.

“Aftershock”

Oil on canvas, 14”x14”

This painting began one way and ended another. It carries a powerful contrast in style, tone, emotion, and timing.

The vibrant patterned background was created before a personal tragedy took place. At the time, I had no specific destination in mind. I was simply exploring rhythm and color through shape and pattern. The pinks, purples, reds, and oranges felt joyful, decorative, almost celebratory.

After the tragedy, I returned to the canvas in shock. I added the black-and-white figure as a form of art therapy. The figure is sparse, raw, and emotionally exposed. The tears are simple but heavy. Boxed into the center of the painting, drained of all color and pattern, it creates a stark rupture. A moment when everything stops. A visual silence surrounded by noise. Numbness.

Together, the two sections now live as one. The painting became a record of my joy and grief. The tension between styles, that fracture in the surface, is what gives the painting its emotional weight. A bright life, broken. A moment that divided everything into before and after.

“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.