Paintings like postcards from the world

I grew up in the foothills of the Berkshire Mountains in Connecticut and began lessons with oils when I was nine. Now my chosen medium is acrylics because they work well in my traveling lifestyle. My path has offered the opportunity to live in several states, the Carolinas, California, Virginia, Texas, Hawaii, Kansas, and Massachusetts. My paintings have found homes as far away as Japan, Norway, and South America. The years I spent as a linguist in the US Army and a Marine Corps dependent gave me the gift of travel. Browsing my portfolio is holding postcards from my wandering. Hanging my work in your space is a window to something that clung to my heart and mind from our world.

When you walk with an artist, be prepared for frequent stops. You never know when they’ll see their next piece flicker by. My own work is a collection of poignant moments, moments I saw out in the world that stopped me cold. I always walk with a camera, smartphone, or sketchpad – anything I can use to capture these images as they cross my path. Later, in my studio with a stretched and gessoed canvas, I translate what documentation I have into the first rudimentary marks of paint. The marks become lines and planes, and these shapes become a sketch. This is when I work the fastest – giddy with inspiration and desperate to preserve whatever magic first caught my attention. But after the storm, comes a calm, a rest. Days and weeks may pass before I can return to my disjointed figures and bring them into conversation – with each other and with me.

Once the conversation begins and the sketch becomes something more coherent, I take notes. I break the piece down into quadrants and detail the work ahead: what clutter needs pruning, what colors need layers, what shapes need to move. With this pre-op complete, the surgery begins as I work delicately but assuredly, often aided by a magnifying glass and eyelash brush. Once every note is addressed, it’s time to rest again. Without paint or brushes, I sit facing the piece, looking for shortcomings to address and successes to protect. Otherwise I risk overworking the piece and making changes just to feel like I’m accomplishing something.

Portraits are particularly susceptible to overworking. A line at the wrong angle, too vibrant a color in the eye, and the expression is destroyed or altered. Conversely, this same fragility requires absolute precision. Sometimes I feel like I’m pushing a speck of paint no bigger than a grain of pollen back and forth for days, until the moment I find its proper place and hold my breath for fear of disturbing it.

How can I know a piece is worth such fixated labor? Time is – by day, by year, by career – limited. That’s why if I’m going to make such a commitment, I want the painting to be a feast. Every piece should not only be laden with color and imagery, but rich with details that intimate a deeper story.

I want my paintings to invite the casual observer to come in and engage, to stop and sit when they thought they were just passing by as the story generates questions: Who is this person? Why are they here? Where is ‘here?’ What is this place, this environment, and what does it mean to the living creature before me? When is this? What preceded this snapshot and what will likely come after?

My approach to portraiture is influenced by the Wyeths: N.C., Andrew, and Jamie. My pop was a fan of every generation and kept coffee table collections of their work. As a child, these tomes were my picture books as each Wyeth told me a story in his own way. Obviously, N.C.’s narratives were the most literal as many of his paintings illustrate scenes from classic literature. However, I’ve always thought Andrew could weave a striking tale – particularly in Christina’s World where every blade of grass cries out its story.

These images taught me at an early age that portrait models shouldn’t float through ether, coincidentally arranging themselves into some fashion shoot pose. They are actors moving with purpose. The subjects in all my paintings are caught between now and then, in the moment before, during, and after the action. They carry the props of their world and are costumed as befits their work, rest, or struggle.

I explore in ever widening rings from where I am, I am a witness to that time, that place. I want to see a very small phenomenon grow mighty and beautiful.

WASAA Western Avenue Artists Association Artist Member Whistler House Museum of Art/Lowell Art Association Artist Member
USVAA United States Veterans’ Artists Alliance Colleague
CCY Center for Creative Youth Alumna
CoISo The Copley Society of Art Artist Member