As I write this article, I am currently preparing for my first solo exhibit of seven large-scale Drishti Paintings at Amelia Douglas Gallery in Vancouver, British Columbia, which runs from November 2024 to January 2025. It has been an extraordinary journey arriving at this place, and I credit my art-making process for my healing and well-being. To my artistic successes and achievements, I attribute magic and serendipity.
I hold an undergraduate degree in earth and ocean sciences and have always loved exploring and appreciating the natural world. While this career was a beginning, it never felt like home. During university, I was given a copy of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. This book inspired me to start a journal writing practice, helping me rediscover that being creative is an essential part of my authentic self. When I received a small acrylic paint set in my mid-20s, I started painting postcard-sized acrylic paintings of hearts, and my artistic life began.
In my late 20s, living in Hermosa Beach, California, married and expecting my first child, a friend noticed one of my small paintings and asked if I could create a larger version, 4 feet by 4 feet, for his kitchen. I succeeded, leading to my first commission, and then consecutive commissions for other friends. This evolved into showing my work at outdoor art fairs, and in restaurants and coffee shops. I had found painting, which became a sanctuary of enjoyment for me, little knowing how much I would need this sustenance in the next decade.
Our first child, Max, died shortly after birth from congenital deformities. A year later, our daughter, Ruth, was born, followed by my postpartum depression and a marriage that fell apart. I look back on my 30-year-old self with deep compassion, a single mom who had moved back to Canada with little support and feeling immense societal pressure. My nights were racked with anxiety attacks, and my days with suicidal thoughts. My lowest point was being hospitalized for mental illness and subsequently losing custody of my then 7-year-old daughter. Overcoming the deep shame I felt for this part of my story was my biggest challenge. Making art was my saving grace, the one thing that gave me a sense of well-being amidst challenges and kept me going.
Released from full-time parenting duties, I focused on healing and making art, two processes intrinsically linked for me. In 2015, I was invited to give an artist’s talk at an Art Colloquium Society group in Vancouver. I shared several paintings from my Fragments of Life series, discussing how making this art had taught me to feel OK again. During the Q&A, a woman asked what I felt was the most significant factor in my recovery and creating my mental well-being.
This question was a turning point, making me conscious of what propelled me toward well-being: my decision to get well and prioritizing this above all to get my daughter back. It was at that moment the idea of the Drishti Paintings was born. Drishti is a Sanskrit word meaning focus. These paintings contain elements I feel are essential to my healing journey.
During this time, a collaboration with a fine art reproduction company in Vancouver resulted in images of my paintings being used in the redesign of a Hilton Hotel in Calgary, Alberta. This first licensing agreement led to several more globally, including reproductions of my artwork being sold by Bed, Bath & Beyond stores.
When my daughter was 11, I was officially declared sound of mind and capable of parenting, and she moved back in with me full time. Making art helped me navigate the readjustment period to full-time single parenting. Our reunion had ups and downs, and I noticed that the healthier I became, the more my daughter thrived.
When my daughter was in high school, I was approached by a Hulu production looking for artwork for their show Fresh. The director had seen my work online and asked her art department team to find me. Working with the set decorators was a magical experience. I felt appreciated and valued as an artist, and part of something exciting. This connection led to my work being featured in the Netflix production The Imperfects.
That same year, I was approached by the Canadian representatives of Viúva Lamego, a tile company based in Portugal. They had followed my work online for years and suggested we submit a proposal for a public art project in North Vancouver. Over two years of the pandemic, together with the City of North Vancouver and Adera Development Corporation, we succeeded in erecting four 16-feet-by-10-feet panels composed of 2,200 ceramic tiles. My West Coast Abstract painted tile installation now stands at East 8th Street and Lonsdale Avenue in North Vancouver.
As I develop my large-scale Drishti Paintings and prepare for my first solo exhibit, I envision these paintings finding homes and collections worldwide. I continue to reap the joy I feel from the creative process.
I feel a deep sense of contentment living in this beautiful place surrounded by forest and a short walk to the ocean. If I’m not in the studio, you’ll find me out enjoying nature. I am excited for new magic and possibilities and grateful to be a working artist living her dream. And my daughter is now in her 20s, thriving, traveling the world and pursuing her own creative endeavors.
My creative process always begins with meditation. Each morning, before heading to the studio, I sit on my prayer cushion, with a Drishti Painting behind me, and practice meditation. I pray to connect with source and surrender to the flow of life.
I then walk through our wild backyard, surrounded by Douglas firs, cedar and arbutus trees. If I’m lucky, I’ll hear an owl hoot or an eagle’s wings soaring above. I’ll breathe deeply of the salty ocean air and give thanks for this place and this day. Often, as I walk to my studio, my two big fluffy Norwegian forest cats, Henry and Ginger, will join me. Other times, they will explore the forest or our pond next to my studio.
In the studio, I have various approaches to warm-ups that lead me to creating and finishing my large-scale paintings. My most frequent starting approach is to work on small study paintings. These small paintings, 11 inches by 15 inches on heavy watercolor paper, are created based on the foundational concepts I outlined for this exhibit series, including composition, color approach and sacred geometry elements.
I start by choosing a dominant color and reviewing my notes on what well-being feels like for that color frequency. For example, if starting with red, I review my notes on what it means to be healthy in our root chakra.
After these core decisions, I surrender to play, working with layers of acrylics, sand, gel mediums, pastels and pencils. Layer by layer, adding and taking away, I experience the flow of that color frequency and understand how I will apply what I learned here to my larger paintings. The key ingredient is trust and following my intuition.
When I start the big painting, having worked through many creative challenges on the small study paintings, I have a clearer idea of my approach. Then I let go of decision-making and enter a complete creative flow mode. I apply layers of acrylic paint, sand textures, gel mediums, spray paint and pastels. I spray, drip, rub, add and take away, just like with the smaller pieces but on a bigger scale. Often the materials take a day or two to dry. On these days, I store the wet painting on a shelf and work on another piece, letting inspiration and intuition guide me. If unsure of my next step, I may walk in nature or return to meditation.
Sometimes, I place the paintings on the studio wall, step back, and see how the layers work together. Other times, I place them on my studio work table. Creating each large-scale painting can take weeks to months as I apply and remove layers of paint and mixed media.
Sometimes a studio day is simply sitting with and looking at a painting in process. That looking time counts and can be as creative and important as doing.
I know a piece is finished when it feels like a Drishti Painting; it has an overall feeling of flow and allowing, with all of its elements connected and integrated, and a section for breathing space. These represent the key elements I feel contribute to my well-being.
As the piece nears completion, I often receive a clear message for the title, a positive message and its healing energy. For example, with the little red painting I was working on during the photography session for this magazine, the title is: I am surrounded by people who love and support me.
As I write this article, I am currently preparing for my first solo exhibit of seven large-scale Drishti Paintings at Amelia Douglas Gallery in Vancouver, British Columbia, which runs from November 2024 to January 2025. It has been an extraordinary journey arriving at this place, and I credit my art-making process for my healing and well-being. To my artistic successes and achievements, I attribute magic and serendipity.
I hold an undergraduate degree in earth and ocean sciences and have always loved exploring and appreciating the natural world. While this career was a beginning, it never felt like home. During university, I was given a copy of The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. This book inspired me to start a journal writing practice, helping me rediscover that being creative is an essential part of my authentic self. When I received a small acrylic paint set in my mid-20s, I started painting postcard-sized acrylic paintings of hearts, and my artistic life began.
In my late 20s, living in Hermosa Beach, California, married and expecting my first child, a friend noticed one of my small paintings and asked if I could create a larger version, 4 feet by 4 feet, for his kitchen. I succeeded, leading to my first commission, and then consecutive commissions for other friends. This evolved into showing my work at outdoor art fairs, and in restaurants and coffee shops. I had found painting, which became a sanctuary of enjoyment for me, little knowing how much I would need this sustenance in the next decade.
Our first child, Max, died shortly after birth from congenital deformities. A year later, our daughter, Ruth, was born, followed by my postpartum depression and a marriage that fell apart. I look back on my 30-year-old self with deep compassion, a single mom who had moved back to Canada with little support and feeling immense societal pressure. My nights were racked with anxiety attacks, and my days with suicidal thoughts. My lowest point was being hospitalized for mental illness and subsequently losing custody of my then 7-year-old daughter. Overcoming the deep shame I felt for this part of my story was my biggest challenge. Making art was my saving grace, the one thing that gave me a sense of well-being amidst challenges and kept me going.
Released from full-time parenting duties, I focused on healing and making art, two processes intrinsically linked for me. In 2015, I was invited to give an artist’s talk at an Art Colloquium Society group in Vancouver. I shared several paintings from my Fragments of Life series, discussing how making this art had taught me to feel OK again. During the Q&A, a woman asked what I felt was the most significant factor in my recovery and creating my mental well-being.
This question was a turning point, making me conscious of what propelled me toward well-being: my decision to get well and prioritizing this above all to get my daughter back. It was at that moment the idea of the Drishti Paintings was born. Drishti is a Sanskrit word meaning focus. These paintings contain elements I feel are essential to my healing journey.
During this time, a collaboration with a fine art reproduction company in Vancouver resulted in images of my paintings being used in the redesign of a Hilton Hotel in Calgary, Alberta. This first licensing agreement led to several more globally, including reproductions of my artwork being sold by Bed, Bath & Beyond stores.
When my daughter was 11, I was officially declared sound of mind and capable of parenting, and she moved back in with me full time. Making art helped me navigate the readjustment period to full-time single parenting. Our reunion had ups and downs, and I noticed that the healthier I became, the more my daughter thrived.
When my daughter was in high school, I was approached by a Hulu production looking for artwork for their show Fresh. The director had seen my work online and asked her art department team to find me. Working with the set decorators was a magical experience. I felt appreciated and valued as an artist, and part of something exciting. This connection led to my work being featured in the Netflix production The Imperfects.
That same year, I was approached by the Canadian representatives of Viúva Lamego, a tile company based in Portugal. They had followed my work online for years and suggested we submit a proposal for a public art project in North Vancouver. Over two years of the pandemic, together with the City of North Vancouver and Adera Development Corporation, we succeeded in erecting four 16-feet-by-10-feet panels composed of 2,200 ceramic tiles. My West Coast Abstract painted tile installation now stands at East 8th Street and Lonsdale Avenue in North Vancouver.
As I develop my large-scale Drishti Paintings and prepare for my first solo exhibit, I envision these paintings finding homes and collections worldwide. I continue to reap the joy I feel from the creative process.
I feel a deep sense of contentment living in this beautiful place surrounded by forest and a short walk to the ocean. If I’m not in the studio, you’ll find me out enjoying nature. I am excited for new magic and possibilities and grateful to be a working artist living her dream. And my daughter is now in her 20s, thriving, traveling the world and pursuing her own creative endeavors.
My creative process always begins with meditation. Each morning, before heading to the studio, I sit on my prayer cushion, with a Drishti Painting behind me, and practice meditation. I pray to connect with source and surrender to the flow of life.
I then walk through our wild backyard, surrounded by Douglas firs, cedar and arbutus trees. If I’m lucky, I’ll hear an owl hoot or an eagle’s wings soaring above. I’ll breathe deeply of the salty ocean air and give thanks for this place and this day. Often, as I walk to my studio, my two big fluffy Norwegian forest cats, Henry and Ginger, will join me. Other times, they will explore the forest or our pond next to my studio.
In the studio, I have various approaches to warm-ups that lead me to creating and finishing my large-scale paintings. My most frequent starting approach is to work on small study paintings. These small paintings, 11 inches by 15 inches on heavy watercolor paper, are created based on the foundational concepts I outlined for this exhibit series, including composition, color approach and sacred geometry elements.
I start by choosing a dominant color and reviewing my notes on what well-being feels like for that color frequency. For example, if starting with red, I review my notes on what it means to be healthy in our root chakra.
After these core decisions, I surrender to play, working with layers of acrylics, sand, gel mediums, pastels and pencils. Layer by layer, adding and taking away, I experience the flow of that color frequency and understand how I will apply what I learned here to my larger paintings. The key ingredient is trust and following my intuition.
When I start the big painting, having worked through many creative challenges on the small study paintings, I have a clearer idea of my approach. Then I let go of decision-making and enter a complete creative flow mode. I apply layers of acrylic paint, sand textures, gel mediums, spray paint and pastels. I spray, drip, rub, add and take away, just like with the smaller pieces but on a bigger scale. Often the materials take a day or two to dry. On these days, I store the wet painting on a shelf and work on another piece, letting inspiration and intuition guide me. If unsure of my next step, I may walk in nature or return to meditation.
Sometimes, I place the paintings on the studio wall, step back, and see how the layers work together. Other times, I place them on my studio work table. Creating each large-scale painting can take weeks to months as I apply and remove layers of paint and mixed media.
Sometimes a studio day is simply sitting with and looking at a painting in process. That looking time counts and can be as creative and important as doing.
I know a piece is finished when it feels like a Drishti Painting; it has an overall feeling of flow and allowing, with all of its elements connected and integrated, and a section for breathing space. These represent the key elements I feel contribute to my well-being.
As the piece nears completion, I often receive a clear message for the title, a positive message and its healing energy. For example, with the little red painting I was working on during the photography session for this magazine, the title is: I am surrounded by people who love and support me.
