I came to painting in my early twenties — not as a formally trained artist, but as a graduate student studying to become a psychotherapist. I couldn’t afford art for my walls, so I decided to try making my own. I had been a dancer and musician in my teens, so I knew something about practice, improvisation, and the strange joy of creating something. I bought a few painting supplies, made a big mess, and immediately fell wildly and deeply in love.

​

Painting gave me access to something I could not reach in any other way. Twenty years later, it still does.

​

Increasingly, my work explores the themes I spend so much time helping others navigate: the changes we do not choose, especially the ones that first arrive as rude, uninvited intrusions on our sense of self, safety, and expectations.

​

My paintings are becoming more abstract — a shift that still surprises me, and may also surprise those who have followed and collected my figurative work. Life can be so hard, and for a long time I wanted my art to offer something calm and grounding to the spaces around it.

​

Now, well into midlife, I feel called to paint monumental change from the inside. This territory is less certain and feels true to what I witness in others and encounter in myself.