Daisy grew up in a Midwestern house where every square inch of wall space was either art or potential. There was inspiration and beauty in every hallway, even if there was the occasional termite family living beneath the surface. Her dad is a painter who was there to instruct and encourage her to create. He would endure her summer storm temper tantrums, typically provoked by “imperfection”, take her erasers away, and wait for her to get comfortable with mistakes.

She has been living in a lot of places since then, from North Carolina to California to Chile, but wherever she is, one truth remains: It’s not home without art.

She is inspired by stories, infatuated with fire, and consumed by a search for meaning and truth. Her art is a reflection of herself and her perceptions of her surroundings. The canvas displays not only colors and proportions, but the philosophies of her grandfather, the rhythm of Tom Petty, the sarcasm of Mark Twain, the reflections off Ozark water. Her art is home.