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For some people, gardening is mostly aspirational :-)
Abundance. 24" x 36' x 2". Hand-printed papers over archival marker on cradled canvas.
Happy summer! You know, I was lucky to inherit a flower bed in front of our house that with verrrry little effort, by adding just a little of this or that shared by a good friend or two, has managed to expand just a bit. The truth is, I love to look at the flowers. They give me great joy every spring and summer! But I don't actually get to dig in there very often. Between allergies and ticks and some crickety body parts, there are often too many reasons for me not to partake.
So I enthusiastically enjoy the beauty of others' labors and then now and then create my own fantasy flower garden like this one, a case of flora to the max.
Abundance is a collage made of hand-printed papers over archival marker. What does that mean? It means initially, in order to sort of break the ice on the canvas, I used archival markers to draw a very, very loose idea of a garden. Then barely following it, I used tissue paper and regular paper I'd hand-printed to grow a more complete picture.
While the bold colors and shapes of the flowers are the main thing you see, along with the rooty earth, I decided to use a tissue paper sky that allows a hint of the marker drawing underneath. I'm always excited by what might be seen underneath the surface of a work, whether it's through tissue paper like here, or by pulling back or scooping out paint to reveal collage underlayers, like in some of my other recent work.
Here's the initial freestyle marker drawing that got me started..
Each of my large collages takes quite a while to create from the initial concept. If you'd like to see more of them, please explore here. As always, thanks so much for following my art!
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Promise. 16" x 16", acrylic on cradled wood panel.
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?"
Like Others Before Me. 24" x 24", acrylic on cradled wood panel. (Destroyed in house/studoi fire)
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:
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"Individually, we are one drop.
Together, we are an ocean ."—Ryunosuke Satoro
We Are Many. 24" x 36" Collage (hand-printed paper on canvas)
We Are Many began with the basic idea of something related to the sea, and then these tiny, colorful fish emerged to chase that big purple one away. The subconscious mind is a wonderful thing.
Everything you see on this collage is made up of monoprinted collage papers — the background and tiny fish on regular paper, and the purple tail on tissue paper. Making these prints is often what I do when I'm not sure about what my next project will be. My mind takes a break and I use very little control when I make them. The result is a really beautiful supply of papers to work with when I've decided to collage. I loved uniting all this variety into one piece.
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Good Morning. 5" x 7-1/2" (9-1/8" x 11-3/8" framed), acrylic on acid-free paper.
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.
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Journey through Memory. 12" x 36" acrylic and graphite on cradled wood panel.
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.
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To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look
upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.
—Jane Austin, Mansfield Park
Rolling In. 20" x 20", acrylic on canvas. Painting wraps around sides.
We've had some gorgeous days lately! Whether you're a fan of shade or strong sun, I'm sure you've gotten to see some lush beauty in recent weeks. Rolling In taps into that feeling, with waves of grasses and flowers and a hint of wetlands. You can almost feel the soft earth under your feet.
I hope you're having a lovely summer wherever you live! If you'd like to see the rest of this series, you can step over to my Wave Series page here. And if you'd like to see this verdant landscape in your home or workspace (even in winter!) just reply to this e-mail and we can chat about it.
As always, thanks for supporting all the arts with your encouragement, purchases, and attendance. You're making the world a better place!
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"Art is the only way to run away without leaving home"
— attributed to Twyla Tharp
Cascade. 20" x 20" x 1.5" Acrylic on canvas.
Looking at these two paintings, can you imagine standing on a sturdy rock while you breathe in the fresh air and the scent of clean water, grasses and flowers? These are what I hoped to capture in Cascade and Breathe. While we couldn't confirm the attribution of the Twyla Tharp quote above, I thought you'd like to think about all the arts and how they let you escape the everyday and pop into another world. These worlds aren't always about beauty and joy, but beauty and joy is the world I choose to hang out in — and I'm so glad that you visit with me here from time to time!
Breathe. 18" x 18" x 1.5" Acrylic on canvas
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"A painting is never finished—
it simply stops in interesting places."
— Paul Gardner
Into the Blue Again. 20" x 20", acrylic on canvas.
Unlike some of my paintings that I rework months later, Into the Blue Again is in its final form. It's very satisfying when you're sure. This painting feels quite complete to me, both in composition and in the way it fulfills my mission of bringing joy and respite to its viewers. I'm very excited about it and hope you love it too!
In fact, I'm excited about the whole "Wave" series! The paintings are not all sea paintings, but they all do "flow." You'll see! I hope to share the rest of the 10-painting series over the coming weeks. As always, if you have questions or would like to start or add to your art collection, just reply to any e-mail and I'll be happy to chat.
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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:
a basis to build on.
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!
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Ebb Tide. 12" x 36" Gesso, acrylic, wax pastel on cradled wood panel
Meadow Dance. 12" x 36" Gesso, acrylic, collage (hand-printed tissue paper), wax pastel on cradled wood panel
DETAILS: Ebb Tide and Meadow Dance
Ebb Tide and Meadow Dance are the quiet balance to my more colorful and dynamic paintings. These two evolved out of a search for calm in 2023. If you’re looking for art that will soothe you every time you see it, I can truly promise these paintings will do just that.
Both pieces use gesso and white acrylic to create an underlying texture, and wax pastel to pull out the shapes that were organically formed from that process. Meadow Dance has the addition of hand-printed collage papers for the leaves.
Do click on the images to see them up larger. They're full of texture and detail you might enjoy.
May this new year bring us all toward a better world!
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I hope these two paintings bring you some light in the darkness!
Swing Dance. 18" x 18" Acrylic and hand-printed paper on gallery-wrapped canvas.
Emerging Life (below) began with textured and dripped gesso, from which images were pulled out in wax pastel. As they developed, an aquatic theme emerged. I leaned into it with collaged hand-printed tissue papers and some light marker. Something I did in my earlier textile collage work is present here, as well. There are places where you're viewing something from its side, and others where you're looking down on something, all in the same artwork. Much of the painting feels up close and flat to the surface, yet there's still depth. I like mixing up the perspectives. Makes me feel like Picasso. Hah!
Emerging Life. 18" x 18" Gesso, wax pastel, collage (hand-printed tissue paper), and marker on gallery-wrapped canvas
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Pleasure of the Dance (12" square, gesso, collaged hand-printed tissue paper, acrylic on cradled wood panel.)
Keeping Time (12" square, gesso, collaged hand-printed tissue paper, acrylic on cradled wood panel.)
These paintings began as collages using gel-printed tissue papers left over from when I made my daughter's chuppah (wedding canopy). These were the brighter pieces that didn't fit into the subtler color scheme of the wedding. The chuppah was really beautiful! But the afterthought collages? They just weren't working for me after a while.
So I took a deep breath, drizzled on some white paint, and then painted over it all with gesso. I freely dragged an implement through the wet gesso, which formed the "grasses." (Are these grasses in snow? Are they in the sea?) While the marks may look painted on, what you're actually seeing is the collage paper from underneath. I did add some glazing to both the background and the vertical strokes, but primarily what you're seeing is the color in the tissue paper below the gesso.
Here's a detail of one of the original collages, so you can see what the strokes are actually made of. I hope you get the chance now and then to make something new out of the old and enjoy the transformation!
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Inner Journey. (12" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
Each of these started one way and evolved completely differently. Did I know in advance where they were going? Absolutely not! That's part of the joy and fear of art making.
I began in April by making and completing three collages using gel-printed papers I'd created. Collage was my intention, and they were quite pretty, but there was something very...placed about them. They were clearly organized and consciously thought about and I liked them, but didn't love them.
What emerged are these somewhat intense pieces that are open to interpretation of a personal nature. They are stronger and deeper now because of their evolution. The names were just what I saw emerging from the paintings — I wonder if you would name them differently?
Free Flow. (12" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
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A Wishful Garden
June. 12" x 12", mixed-media on cradled wood panel.
July. 12" x 12", mixed-media on cradled wood panel.
August. 12" x 12", mixed-media on cradled wood panel.
That means these paintings are a lot of wishful thinking of what my garden may be someday... the buds will be allowed to thrive, and even open! As the summer progresses, the colors will get stronger and the green will, of course, become unruly. By August, if I'm lucky, there will still be a lot happening, just in a fading, browning kind of way.
So far, my solution to the animal problem is to let our purple blazing star (liatris) spread as much as it likes — deer don't like it, and I love it!
Back to the paintings, in case you're curious, they were done in a similar way to the very white ones I recently shared — lots of textured gesso, then raised areas highlighted with wax pastels. I was definitely conscious of creating botanical forms, but didn't know what would actually emerge. I'm really pleased with the results!
Before we part, here's a picture of that blazing star from a couple years ago. I hope you're getting pleasure from some blooms in your vicinity, too!
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A Little Waltz (30" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
A Little Jig (30" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
A Little Waltz and A Little Jig began with a focus on creating an underlying texture over which I expected to create dancing, swirling, very colorful pieces like my most recent ones.
I worked with gesso (and a little paint) thickened with medium, and used color spreaders to swirl the mixture around. I pressed paper into the mixture and pulled it off to add more texture, and so on. Then I hung the two panels on the wall and stared at them. I stared at them for weeks! They had such a lovely appeal as simple bas-relief, white-on-white paintings. I knew they weren’t done, but also couldn’t touch them.
I used wax pastels to draw in botanical gestures. (Wax pastels are essentially high-quality, well-pigmented crayons.) And then I used them as you would do a coin rubbing, following the lead of the underlying gessoed texture, and was very excited by the result. I love the serendipity of this process: there’s a randomness to the underlying texture, and yet there are forms that can be pulled out and emphasized.
Detail from A Little Waltz
Detail from A Little Jig
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Jubilation. (Quadtych) Mixed-media on four cradled wood panels, each 36" x 12" x 2". Variable width.
This painting practically danced itself onto the panels! It began with some rather smudgy pencil work laid down to music...
...which I overlaid with some Haring-like bold lines. I really liked these! It was hard to paint over them...
... but then I took the plunge and painted in some green. Not my favorite stage — yuck! Artists have to go through some pretty ugly stages to get to something they like.
And it all started getting more interesting when I used wax pastels to draw in some botanical, vine-like markings and some of my favorite Indian yellow hue. (Still clearly a mess, though).
For me, the high point was collaging in the red elements. They're made of hand-printed tissue paper, and I love the little transparent parts and how they interact with the rest of the painting. Plus, just that pop of color! Here's the first stage of that addition, before I emphasized the red even more:
Before the painting was finished, I added in some smaller detail of upwardly-mobile green splatters and broken up white, and shifted the panels again. This helped lift the whole painting! Here's the finished piece again:
Jubilation. (Quadtych) Mixed-media on four cradled wood panels, each 36" x 12" x 2". Variable width.
Hope you enjoyed this inside peek into process — thanks for reading about it!
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Coming Home: Starting Fresh I. (24" x 18", mixed-media on flat panel)
Coming Home: Starting Fresh 2. (24" x 18", mixed-media on flat panel)
I let those sit for quite a few months, decided they were done, and even published their photos last spring. After that, I moved on to larger pieces with a much freer kind of painting and found my groove.
Last month I looked back at those early panels and had no interest in them whatsoever! My painting style had moved on. So I took what I had created a year before and started over again. This time things flowed quickly. I loved the new color palette, and the past life of the panels gave these paintings extra depth and richness. I found the same dancing feeling I've been enjoying with my larger paintings, and voila! Starting Fresh 1 and 2 were born.
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Windswept 1 (Process)
Windswept 2 (Process)
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Coming Home — Summer Days. (24" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
One of the surprising things about our house/studio fire in 2020 is the change in my perspective on earlier paintings. Summer Days is actually a painting over a mixed-media painting called New Ground that survived perfectly because of its location. It was a piece I really enjoyed, but after the fire it felt too... controlled. I wanted to paint something freer!
I decided to use it as the underlayer for a new painting, so I took dark blue and black and fluid white paint and began making loose marks over the original. Then I followed the feeling of those and added more high-contrast forms. I liked the texture of the collage and all the paint existing under the new work.
Here are a few process photos to show you what that was like, including the ugly stages!
Original "New Ground" painting
When I thought the new painting was almost done, I tested out the balance by making these black and white images (eliminating color saturation). I turned Summer Days various ways to see how it was working best. I thought all the directions were interesting!
The painting shown at the top of the post and below is what I finally decided on after many turns on the wall.
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Reflection 1. (10" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
Reflection 2. (10" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
Reflection 3. (10" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
The paintings didn't start out the way they ended up at all, and that's fascinating to me. At some point pretty far in, my husband Jeff said "what would those look like upside down?" and oh what a genius question, because flipping them before completing them was just what they needed.
Clearly they evolved into pond flora and reflections on water — their botanicals remind me of the Pre-Raphaelite paintings I've loved. I'd like to say that was my intention, but my process is much more intuitive and spontaneous than that. Each time I create, something flows from me to the painting surface and back again, and it's always a different experience. It's that exploration and unknown that keeps me so hooked!
I don't think that experience is unique to the visual arts, despite how magical it sounds. I think it's especially true of what we call "creative," but also any process that isn't rote, that has various avenues one can take in many situations, where one has to think creatively and on the spot about how to solve something or make something better. Maybe you've experienced something similar yourself?
Reflection 1, 2, and 3
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Coming Home — Garden Dreams 1. (12" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
Coming Home — Garden Dreams 2. (12" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)
Coming Home — Garden Dreams 3. (12" square, mixed-media on cradled wood panel)