I thought it might be a good time to share this painting called Promise. It will be in an exhibit in Watertown, MA, beginning later this month, but also, we could all use a little perspective right now as we enter a challenging year that is also full of possibility. This painting touches on that perspective a little. I'll tell you about its method in a minute, but first, Promise was created from thoughts about land and the generations of people who have lived somewhere before us, as well as the generations of people who will live in that place long after us. I haven't anything more profound to say than thinking about this helps me realize just where we are in the bigger picture.

At the time I made this painting, I was exploring this theme in several other paintings, as well, including the one below, called Like Others Before Us. Here, someone's roots have clearly been put down. For the curious among us it begs the question, "whose roots?" ​

Both of these paintings were created on something called Claybord, which has a hard clay surface. The hard clay allows you to scrape into your paintings more easily (sgraffito), delving down to earlier layers. It allowed me to delineate the slopes and then sand back the blue sky to allow the golden light to come through. It's a process I hope to explore again in the future.
​
Meanwhile, I'm excited to share that Promise was juried into the Contemporary Landscapes exhibit at Mosesian Arts in Watertown, MA, January 23—March 6, 2026. If you're in the area I hope you'll get to see what is sure to be a beautiful exhibit. Even better, come to the Opening Reception on Thursday, Jan. 29! I do plan on being there. Here's the information: 

​A new day, a new year — all possibility in the face of the unknown.

Do you make New Year's resolutions? I don't! I know I'll forget them quickly. I do like to notice the fresh start of the year and to try and capture the optimism or sense of purpose a new calendar year brings. With many things out of our control as the world reels in directions we don't like, it feels important to focus on what we know we can affect: how we participate in this world, including what we can contribute.

For now, the contributions you read about me are primarily of the artistic kind, continuing to bring lively and peaceful artworks into the world. What you may not know is that I also work with the elderly most days. Not a saintly volunteer, but a caring employee in a challenging time for some.

We all have strengths we can use to improve the world we live in. Some of you are full of energy you can direct toward solving problems; some use your skills with language or your strength to build. Some of you use your talents to uplift your friends and families, and others help encourage the young to be kind human beings. 

All the work you do to better this planet and the people on it matters, no matter how small or whether others recognize it. Looking back at what you've done this past year, I hope you'll join me in acknowledging the light you add to the universe. 
​

I recently joined a local art association that newly offers a monthly Artist's Circle, among other programs. I've never really participated in a sharing/critique group before, though I have looked for opportunities to join one. So after feeling out how this kind of art sharing works, I brought along two paintings to get some feedback. One of those I'll share with you later, but the other one you can see above, now named Journey through Memory. 

I learned a potent lesson about directionality when I told the group that I thought this piece was done. I presented a vertical piece to them and one artist, Barbara O'Brien, said that her Irish background made her wish I'd turn it on its side to look like the beautiful landscape she remembers.

When you're working on a piece, even an abstract, you do sense a directionality to it and it's hard to unsee that and imagine it otherwise. Barbara and another artist both saw the potential for this piece to "lie down" and how it could transform it into something much more wonderful.

"Now it tells a story!

They were so right! I knew instantly that this was how the painting wanted to be seen. I was so glad I'd been open to a new perspective on this piece I really loved. Barbara said: "Now it tells a story," and she was right again. Whoever looks at it can imagine a voyage, a village, a road or stream through rolling green hills, with mystery and memory lying in the hint of an ancient tree. ​

On the Way to Becoming. 51" x 51" x 2" on end, 36" if squared. Acrylic on cradled wood panel

Created in fall of 2023, On the Way to Becoming is all about color and movement. I'm not sure if its name tells you more about how I feel about my art process, or about the resultant upbeat, evolutionary vortex of a painting. Maybe a little of both!

I think sometimes abstract painting is similar to how some writers talk about their fiction works — and actually how some people think about child raising. There's a painting waiting to emerge, and the trick is to get out of the way and let it become what it needs to be. Which isn't to say we have no hand in it...

On the way to becoming itself, On the Way to Becoming went through quite a few stages — I'll share just a few here:

I started by building a textural underlayer.

Then following the lines of the underlayer, I lay down green and teal as
​a basis to build on.

I considered this next phase "the ugly stage" of the painting (there always is one). I was adding contrast and depth and broadening the palette, and things got too muddy and vertical... it made me uncomfortable!

So I worked to add richer color and more white, and to bring everything together. I was almost there!! But which way to turn it? It actually took a few weeks of turning it around daily to figure out what really worked. But with the help of a friend...
​Voilà!