The fastest way to kill me would be to lock me in a room of shades of gray; devoid of sunlight, color, nature, or animals.

My pencil/brush/camera/needle/grozier allows me to marry my love of pigments, fauna, and the soul of the universe into silly expressions of whimsy which express the inner mechanisms of my heart and brain. My works include paintings of consortia of animals with a strange visitor who doesn’t belong there, mixed media pieces that blend painting and expressions of my travels, and annual wall calendars – “A Year of Art and Snark” – that merge my wry (a nice way of saying “snarky”) commentary on the world with a sampling of my artwork from that year.

It’s been a long, hard road getting here. When I was in college, I wanted to move to Colorado and write the Great American Novel (you know…the next one). “How are you going to eat?” they said. “What are you going to do for, you know…food?” “Do you know how many writers actually make it compared to how many starving writers there are?”

Well….no, actually.

Rather than follow my heart and soul I chose to drink the standard Kool Aid of getting a jay-oh-bee and crammed those dreams of writing and painting into the back corner of the dusty storage closet, the depths of the kitchen junk drawer, the long-forgotten box in the garage.

I did what I was “supposed to.” I went to graduate school. I got married. I bought a house, started a business. Bought another house.

Every now and infrequent again I cracked open my artistic closet door for a “craft project,” which would allow my inner artist to stretch her legs a little, walk around the room, see the sunlight, get a couple of ideas…

And then back into storage she went. Until now.

As a fifty year old divorcee who played by a lot of other peoples’ rules, I’m learning that what worked before doesn’t necessarily have to work now. In fact, it very well may not work. At all.

Probing deeply – and frequently uncomfortably – into my Jungian shadow self is allowing the discovery of a newfound spiritual freedom and release of the old script of my life I wrote under a different set of rules that no longer serves me.

It’s terrifying. And challenging. And refreshing.

And GREAT.

What follows is some of my art – what is available for sale, along. with what’s been sold and gifted (as further example of my work).

Enjoy!