artist's statement

I start my day with a long walk with my dog through my San Francisco neighborhood — up and down the hills, taking it all in. The fog rolls in off the bay, coyotes in the hills, hawks overhead, wildflowers pushing through sidewalk cracks — a reminder that it was all here long before the concrete. I photograph colors and shapes along the way, listening to music, trying to visualize what my next painting is going to look like, what it’s going to feel like.

I’ve become more and more drawn to abstract art because it lets me pour in everything — the places I’ve visited, the people I’ve met, the things that have quietly shaped me.

Twenty years of teaching art to children taught me something I didn’t expect: to let go. To move fast, commit fully, and not look back. To be willing to not know where I’m going. Taking a break from teaching has finally allowed me to bring that back into my own work.

That freedom lives in my paintings now. Layers of color that don’t explain themselves. Shapes that feel more true than anything literal. There’s tension in the work — between control and release, between memory and the present moment — and I’ve stopped trying to resolve it. The unresolved parts are where it gets honest. That’s where I want to be.

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