I paint from a place deep in my heart and my soul. My best work arrives when I forget everything I have learned and I am an extension of the paint and brush moving in a dance with the canvas. This dance is a moment in time when I am free of my ego and in touch with my spirit. Painting gives me the freedom to be the person I want to be. Painting invigorates me and allows me to express my authentic self.
I love design, shape, form, calligraphy and brush marks. I adapted my calligraphy from the way Zen painters’ work with line and my bold brush marks and color from the pure self- expression of the Fauve painters. I get excited when my paintings challenge me, and, much like I do in response to life’s challenges, sometimes I take charge, and other times I surrender to the journey, letting go of my need to know what will happen. The process of painting a piece often tests me, but it also makes my heart sing. When I create something that has never been created before, I’m struck by a feeling unlike any other. There is nothing better.
When I paint landscapes, I am inspired to paint from my deep love for nature’s rhythms, movement, and voice. From the movement of the trees to the rich tranquility of the ocean, I hope to create works that emerge from my spirit and flourish with sprinkles of serenity, beauty, tranquility, and optimism. My paintings follow and blossom from nature’s vivid colors and sacred designs. I love nature’s play of light and shadow and its lush richness and bold color. I love the mystery and spontaneity of colors appearing where you would least expect them to. I hope to capture nature’s splendor in my art.
In my abstract painting, I was first drawn to angel shapes as a way of connecting spiritually with something larger than myself. I fell in love with abstract figure thanks to Picasso’s influence, but I truly came into my own when I literally hit the floor. Placing a huge canvas on the floor and painting with sweeping moves changed everything.
I would love to say that I have some sense of what I’m going to create each time I paint, but that is not my process. I often spend time looking, feeling, listening, and reaching for something in the blank canvas to tell me where I’m to begin. Then, as I look, I explore my feelings and go somewhere deep inside myself. There I find a rhythm to follow. I create from nothing using shapes, colors, and line, and I drive the paint onto the canvas using brushes, palette knives, sponges, and my body as tools.
When I paint huge canvases, my body becomes a dancer and yogi. It wraps itself over the canvas and drapes itself across the floor. It stretches and reaches for possibility. I crawl, lean, and sway, finding a sense of home and belonging. I move to leave behind traces of feelings, emotions, aspects of myself, and, most of all, memories of a dance well danced.