Influences

Mom & Dad

In 1969, the same year the first man walked on the moon, I painted my first piece. With great excitement, I presented this painting—a black cat on an orange background—to my father, a multifaceted engineer, artist, and true renaissance man. Unsure of what to make of it, he laughed nervously and patted my head, which I interpreted as a sign that I lacked talent in painting. So, I shrugged it off and moved on. At the time, I didn't realize I had created an abstract work of art. My father, a staunch realist, took another twenty-one years before he could fully grasp and remark that the art I did was, in fact, art.

The scent of paint, the sight of my father's creations, observing his process, and our trips to the art supply store left an indelible mark on me, storing inspiration that would surface later. His influence is evident in my fondness for the old-fashioned hardware store, the simplest haven for makers.

My studio is filled with supplies he deemed essential, much to the dismay of my budget-conscious mother. His love for nature—camping, hiking, skiing, or simply driving around town—opened my eyes to a larger world, still influencing my work today. A Navy man, lifelong learner, self-taught linguist, and empath, he believed in doing things with the best tools. His final gift to me was the wisdom of the Egyptian goddess Ma’at. As the daughter of the sun god Re, she was associated with Thoth, god of wisdom. Ma’at is the personification of truth, justice, and the cosmic order.

A Journey Through Art and Life

While in high school, I found a quiet joy in art class. In my small town, the art program was limited, offering just one class in drawing and another in pottery. I took both classes several times, enjoying them but struggling to find inspiration or encouragement. It was probably my dad who suggested I try his camera, leading me to discover a passion for photography. I became known as “the girl with the camera.” With photography, realism was inherent so those abstract concepts I was naturally drawn to could take a back seat. My parents fully supported me, even helping me build a darkroom in our basement. I shot mainly in black and white, developed the film, and made my own prints. At seventeen, the world felt full of possibilities. While still in high school, I studied at the School of Modern Photography and started a freelance photography business, dreaming my photos would one day decorate walls worldwide.

My mom was my biggest cheerleader, encouraging persistence in my pursuits. She believed I had what it took to follow my dreams and didn't need anyone's permission. Right after graduation, I organized and curated my first solo show of photographs and was accepted to Fitchburg State College to study Communications and Media.

The Print Shop

A few years later, I married a man who owned a commercial print shop. Feeling I could learn more in the real world, I left college. In hindsight, I wish I had stayed in college. However, my time in the family print shop was invaluable. I learned the printing business and used my photography and artistic skills to help it flourish. I quickly mastered essential graphic design tools, transitioning from paste-ups and galleys to personal computers and QuarkXPress. The printing industry underwent massive changes, and I kept up with new tools, software, and methods. The graphic design skills I acquired form the foundation of my current artwork, encompassing color theory, balance, scale, content, and layout.

A New Chapter in the South

In 1990, our family moved South. My two young daughters were (and still are) the loves of my life, and raising them was pure joy. Yet, I felt uncertain about my identity and career path. With the girls about to start elementary school, I had time to pursue my interests. A dear friend suggested interior design, considering my background in art, print, and business. I enrolled in school and enjoyed being back in an academic setting. It became clear that the classes requiring me to draw, paint, and create were the ones I truly loved. Though I didn't complete the interior design program, the experience helped me realize my true identity as an artist. A note from my dad that year, saying, “...The real artist was always you. Press on, my love,” solidified my confidence. Soon after, I began teaching art and creativity to children. Then we moved again.

Sun & Moon Studio

In North Carolina, we built a healthy home life for the girls and found space for Sun & Moon Studio. While preparing my class curriculum, I studied art masters to share their knowledge with my students. Artists like Adams, Klee, Matisse, Rothko, O’Keeffe, and van Gogh became my constant companions, influencing my work. Their influence, along with that of contemporary and emerging artists, shapes my art today.

Unsettled

Radical change and uncertainty can foster new growth when the conditions are right. Children leave the nest, husbands find new loves, parents pass away, and dear friends move on. During these times of unsettling change, we have the best opportunity to reinvent ourselves. We can be seventeen again, bold and fearless, with an attitude of "I don’t have much to lose." The years between 2002 and 2015 were my unsettled years, yet they also allowed me time for becoming. Tough times tend to make you more of a warrior, helping you to seek more deeply, notice the tiny details, and gain new perspectives. During such times, you tend your garden: replant, weed out, water, observe what grows, and then repeat. Tough times require you to ask the hard questions and quietly, anxiously listen for a reply.

In these unsettled years, I found inspiration in the natural world: the symmetry of a flower, the asymmetry of a tree branch, the patina of a worn wooden table, the rust on a weathered sign, the markings on a zebra, or a Scotch Bonnet shell. I found inspiration in history and the experiences of other people, and I discovered a deep connection with ancient philosophies.

The marks of time

The blank canvas doesn’t scare me. I’ve been here before. I can make a fearless mark, change direction, and try something new. It doesn’t have to be perfect—in fact, quite the opposite.

My artwork often begins with quick marks or words. I have an idea of where I want the work to go in terms of color and style, but then I let those first marks guide the painting into being. Yes, I’ve been here before. Sometimes marks are left exposed, while others are covered up. I let my mind empty onto the surface. I choose to embrace “imperfection,” so when an unexpected, but welcome line or dribble appears, I say “yes!” and celebrate its magical intention.

I’ve been here before.