I think color is the single best way to access a visceral experience.
From there, gestures, spatial balance, chiaroscuro, and visual rhythm begin to weave a story with no ending.
It’s my hope to share this story for you to see it in any way that suits you.
I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri to parents who indulged my natural independent will and desire to live a creative life. My mother was a painter. As a young girl, I watched in fascination as she applied vivid hues and bold brushstrokes to canvas – happily absorbed in her private world. That was it. That’s when feelings of wonder, yearning and love for art took hold of me and have illuminated my path as an artist ever since.
Throughout high school, I used my parent’s basement as a studio. I remember painting a mural of the cover of The Little Prince in my high school French classroom.
In the late 80’s, I moved to Tucson and spent some time working in commercial art to make a living, sharing studio space with other artists. Eventually, I was able to devote all my time to painting. My home studio is the safest place I know.
Most likely, my tendency to self-isolate and live inside my head reinforces my preference for abstraction. It is natural for me to make up images in my mind, absorbing and arranging color and form, inventing and reinventing a pictorial language. My shadow side and my light side must learn to coexist.
The ongoing ritual of studio life grounds me, sustains me. If I didn’t paint, I would be betraying myself.
Willem de Kooning
Acrylic and oil sticks