series

growing up

The Growing Up series explores memories of place – my childhood home in Maine – across several decades. The layers in my paintings mirror how memory itself functions: some images come into focus, some images fade, some memories cover over others, and a larger picture emerges from accumulation. These paintings investigate a universal experience of living that all of us, regardless of location, share. READ THE NARRATIVES.

While we spent most summer days on the shores of Maine, the neighbor’s swimming pool was a world just outside of my set boundaries. The allure of it’s expansive turquoise gleam and wafting scent of chlorine, felt like a different planet. We were never allowed to cross the border without permission from the neighbors AND the accompaniment of a parent. Once we got into the pool, there was a whole new set of rules. (Stay in the shallow end, no running, one hour only, and of course no peeing.) I recall it being a rare treat. Today it is filled in, but not in my mind’s eye.

When I learned to ride a bike I wanted nothing more than to ride it on the street. Just around the shrubs. But, that was against the rules. I would be confined to our dirt driveway. Even though our house set back and the driveway was long, the idea of riding on smooth pavement – just over there – was a boundary I would push when no one was looking. The freedom I felt breaking that particular rule was exhilarating. A feeling I would continue to seek out as I grew up.

We never had chickens. The previous owners did. This is a view from the kitchen window. As kids, it was a secret clubhouse that sat on the furthermost boundary of our property. Yet, not out of my mother’s view from the kitchen window. It was the chicken coop where I experienced how naughty the neighborhood boys could be. To this day, it’s cornflower blue door keeps close watch on the back yard.

intimacy

In this series I am exploring relationship and intimacy -- with myself and the world around me. These ideas – especially as I get older – have taken on new meaning. These paintings depict my internal landscape – what relationship and intimacy mean to me as a woman, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a human being, and an artist. The simplicity of line and shapes in these paintings aim to reduce the complex idea of intimacy into the basic human need for intimacy. Which, I believe, begins with our relationship to ourselves. The scale and directness of these pieces underscores the gravity of this subject for me.

untitled

WORK IN PROGRESS. I am not exactly sure what this is yet. It has something to do with what is constant. How do we stay grounded in chaos? Are the black boxes that stop us or through ways? What is possible? Where do we self-limit?

oceans

As I mentioned in my statement, the ocean is a place I return to again and again. Although it has given me comfort and stability through the years, at times the water has also felt like a wall, its horizon a solid line that I’m unable to cross. The sea is expansive, but also solid. This series simplifies a complex entity into three constants: sky, wave, and sea. The color combinations represent what is not constant: the mood of the ocean on any given day, night, or season in relationship to my state-of-being upon encountering the ocean on a particular visit.

It is important to see the scale of these works. For this reason, I have elected to provide an image that gives these paintings some context. This series, when spaced approximately 2 feet apart, occupies 25 feet. My hope is that the viewer can stand before these “oceans” and reflect in their own way.

pieces of me

These assemblages are created from scraps of my paintings. I am exploring how they go together to create "landscapes". They are painted paper mounted on panel, held together with wire and staples.

heaven+earth

My dear father passed away this year. These paintings are my expression of a lot of things I was feeling. What is heaven, and how long does it take to get there? What is the soul? How does it exist when the body dies? Is heaven on earth? Can we access our loved ones once they’ve left their physical body? What is their journey like? No answers. But it feels good to process these emotions.