Art

This is the very first painting I created since elementary school. My son’s girlfriend brought paints to my house for a girlfriend–boyfriend activity and invited me to join them. During the process, I remember crying as something unlodged in me that day, and joy kept pouring out of me as I worked on this piece. It is very simple, yet deeply special to me.

If you pay close attention, you will see the goddess in the moon, and a tiny "me" by the left river bank, "dancing".

This is the second piece, which I ended up dedicating to my sons. I remember feeling a deep fear before starting it. I was scared that I couldn’t replicate the Moon Goddess experience, afraid of being bad or getting it wrong. But the Moon Goddess cracked something open in me, and I could no longer contain what wanted to come through.

I remember being scared and taking the canvas outside onto the deck, painting in the warm September sun. As I worked, the fear softened. When the piece was finished, I felt immensely proud of it, especially of the small sense of depth created by the house construction in the top left corner of the canvas

This painting was a complete surprise to me. I had a vision of it in my had but had no faith in my skill to create it. But I simply began, and something emerged that I hadn’t known I was capable of creating. I remember being amazed that the shape of the woman came through so clearly, that it could look both clean and beautiful.

At the time, I was deeply immersed in chakra work, learning how my body could finally connect with itself and with my mind. There was a sense of devotion in that period, a quiet commitment to listening inward.

During my meditations, I often saw colors moving through my body, rising and shifting. I felt that the colors were important to be incorporated here and essentally this piece became an accurate reflection of that inner work. My body and mind learning to communicate, align, and express themselves together.

This is my husband’s favorite. Early in my painting journey, I feel I managed to capture a sense of depth and movement on the canvas. I continued to weave in the recurring shape of the woman, the goddess within the moon. At that time, I was deeply devoted to reconnecting with my inner feminine, rediscovering my gentleness, and allowing that quieter, more intuitive part of myself to lead.

As I mentioned earlier, this period was marked by deep inner work, chakra balancing and a growing connection to my inner self. To my surprise, I found it very easy to enter a meditative state. It often revealed itself through color: deep purples and royal blues, pierced by brilliant light.

Later, I learned how to navigate these visions more intentionally, but at the time, the colors alone were enough to fill me with awe. I would sit for hours, simply witnessing them, immersed in the peace and stillness they brought.

Ha! Finally, a controversial one. My children would lose their minds over this painting and happily mock its title.

Let’s be clear: yes, it is a representation of a woman’s yoni, but not as something provocative or obscene. It is a Divine portal, one that many women have yet to consciously connect with or reclaim.

We live in a culture that demands shame around the honest display of womanhood, while simultaneously normalizing vulgar, pornographic imagery in everyday media. In that contrast, this work insists on something different: reverence.

This is a piece meant to be displayed and honored. My hope is that it inspires women to reconnect with, and claim the sovereignty of their own Divine portals.

While spending a quiet evening with my younger son, we were gifted the most vivid sunset I can remember. We were driving and exclaiming every few seconds, “Oh my God, look there,” as the sky kept revealing new bursts of color. To say the beauty of it stopped us in our tracks would be an understatement.

This painting instantly brings me back to that day to those few precious hours with my chatty son as he visited from college, on his way to spend the rest of his time with his girlfriend. That tiny sliver of time, when he was still just mine, is what this painting holds for me.

This painting captures the feeling of late summer drifting into early fall. When I look at it, I feel sunlight on my skin and a gentle breeze moving through open fields.

My husband sees a different scene, the moment from Gladiator when the main character walks through tall grass, his fingers brushing the tops as he moves forward.

I love that a single painting can hold so many interpretations, inviting different memories and visions for each viewer.

It took me a long time to reconcile with this piece. First, I was still learning how to paint the human body. Second, the vision I held so clearly in my mind didn’t translate to the canvas at all.

After finishing it, I put the painting away for weeks, refusing to frame it or hang it alongside the others. It felt immature to me. In some ways, it still does.

And yet, I continue to remind myself that art is subjective that it will land differently for each viewer. More than that, this piece marks a distinct period in my life: a time when I honored the Moon Goddess, danced barefoot in my backyard at sunrise, and welcomed the full moon with reverence.

This painting honors me in that moment. And for that reason alone, it deserves to be seen.

This is my favorite piece. I painted it after my first Reiki session, during which I learned that my crown and third-eye chakras were wide open, while my root chakra was barely connected. What I heard, clearly, was that my body was floating, unanchored, without roots.

There was more revealed during that session, and I cried deeply. But I also committed to doing the work to finding my way into greater balance.

I painted this piece to honor myself in that moment: full of doubt, yet already planted deeply in Mother Earth, even if I wasn’t fully rooted within myself yet.

I love this painting deeply. It holds fear and uncertainty, but even more, it holds trust, the knowing that things would right themselves. It carries the tenderness and courage I felt for the version of me who was changing, slowly rooting herself in a new place.

I am unoffically dedicating this painting to my Reiki Master, beautiful Patti Stern.

This piece, and the one that follows, The Energy Dance, has no backstory. They simply appeared in my mind, fully formed, and needed to be brought onto the canvas. Together, they took no more than thirty minutes to complete.

These works honor the connection between man and woman, the way bodies meet, mirror, and communicate through the shared language of movement. It is less about choreography and more about presence, union, and the quiet intimacy found within the act of dancing.

The Energy Dance captures the invisible currents that flow between two beings in motion. It is not about steps or patterns, but about the electric charge of presence, the subtle give and take, the mirrored intentions, the push and pull that exists when energies align. In this work, bodies dissolve into rhythm, boundaries soften, and the dance becomes a dialogue beyond words. It is an invitation to witness the intimacy of movement, the raw vulnerability of connection, and the quiet power of two forces moving as one.

Since beginning my sabbatical, my attention has turned inward, toward femininity, softness, and a deeper relationship with my inner self. This inner work quietly invited my husband into his own exploration of masculine presence, and together we found ourselves returning to one another at the place where we first fell in love.

Yet this return was different. After sixteen years together, love carries more weight, more memory, more devotion. The love was never absent. It was simply veiled by the rhythms and demands of daily life. In recent months, as we slowed down and chose presence, we rediscovered one another with renewed passion and a deeper reverence for what we share.

This painting reflects that remembering. Two forms meet and merge, distinct yet inseparable, shaped by time rather than diminished by it. The flowing colors carry passion, tenderness, resilience, and devotion, layers of love accumulated through years of becoming. It is a portrait of union not as something new, but as something returned to, again and again, with greater depth.

 I have a special relationship with ladybugs. When I first moved to Atlanta and lived in a hotel for five months, they would gather and swarm inside and outside my window, as if watching over me. Later, I learned that ladybugs are considered guardians, symbols of protection and omens of good fortune.

In recent months, they have appeared during moments of profound insight, as well as during times of doubt, arriving as quiet confirmations. They show up even in the winter months, when logic says they shouldn’t. Because of this, I have come to see them as my guardians and messengers, gentle reminders that I am on the right path and that I am protected.

This painting, though still flat and without dimension, was born from the desire to honor my guides and acknowledge their presence.

I was clearly not finished after painting Devotion. Another expression was asking to be born, one that could hold the depth, steadiness, and rooted love I feel for my husband. That longing became The Infinite.

The forms in this painting flow like an infinity symbol, two currents of feminine and masculine represented by sun and moon as a background for tree lovers. It reflects a love that is both grounding and expansive, passionate and enduring.

My husband gifted me these long canvases after I had been working on small 8×10 pieces, and with them came a sense of vastness. The vertical space invited more breath, more color, more freedom. I felt giddy with the possibility of expanding, of allowing the work, and myself, to move beyond previous edges.

The Infinite is devotion in motion, love as a living cycle, shaped by time, polarity, sun and moon, and presence, forever unfolding and forever returning.

This painting was created for the Art Show organized by Heart Soul & Art Studio, titled “Something Red.” I had never worked with red to this extent before, and it took me a long time to decide to participate. I began with a partial vision: the sweeping, shifting background of colors that I felt compelled to put on canvas. I loved that first stage so much that, for a few moments, I thought it was complete.

But fear lingered. The fear that whatever I added next might disrupt the work. I didn’t yet know what the painting was meant to represent but it felt incomplete. That night, the answer came in a dream: layers of the universe and a door to it.

This painting is the embodiment of my early experiences with quantum jumping lessons lead by Burt Goldman. At first, I was uncertain and hesitant, but as I practiced, I came to love the process. The color red, which can create hesitation, fear, and doubt, perfectly reflects those first meditations. The tension, excitement, and uncertainty of stepping into the unknown.

What you see on the canvas is a decison point, determination to trust and to take a step into the unknown, into the possible transformation, and the thrill of exploring new dimensions.

New art is in-progress as I create this site.

New art is in progress as I create this site.