Working as a graphic designer and illustrator for over 30 years, I’ve always spent a great deal of time looking at the way light, shape and color work together. Through my large paintings, I’m able to expand on these skills, playing harder, expressing thoughtful, bold, colorful images and concepts without parameters. I can lose myself for hours inside of each one as I take apart the images and carefully put them back together emphasizing colors, rhythms and patterns, bridging the gap between abstraction up close and realism from a distance.
I work buttery acrylics over large white canvases capturing little glimpses of life containing whimsy, the secrets of strangers, and the amazing architecture of nature.
I am always striving for that delicate balance between industry and nature, between meticulous and impetuous, between past and future, between painting as a physical object and invoking a redolent memory.
As a young girl, I often accompanied my father into "the city" from the East Bay, helping him lug his many gorgeous, oil painted canvases and heavy easels from the large trunk of his blue Maverick into the colorful atmosphere and characters of the Embarcadero Square. A founding member of the Street Artists Association in San Francisco, my father surrounded himself every Saturday with authentic working/starving artists and craftsmen. Those years of raw creativity and sacrifice for one's art penetrated my skin.
I took a more practical path and majored in Design at FIDM just a few short blocks from the very spot I spent those many Saturdays. Armed with a degree and need to feed myself, I found my way to Seattle, Washington where I worked as a clothing designer and ultimately, a graphic designer for over two decades, among other paying jobs in marketing and branding, as well as teaching art in K-6 classrooms.
I continually balanced my day jobs with personal creative work, occasionally sharing collections of pen and inks, assemblages, and illustrations. Now, breaking free of any previously perceived constraints, these big, bold paintings allow me to truly express myself without parameters. The graphic designer in me is still alive and well represented here, but the opportunity to create and play exactly how I want feels, every day, like a rare gift.
My father has been gone since 2011, but the memory of his colorful life lifts me every day I get to hold that brush.