As a child, I was always drawn to color. Looking back at photos, you will find a smiling 9-year-old wearing a hot pink beret, large sunshine-yellow clip-on earrings, and bright patterned leggings. At the time, I had little care about what anyone else thought about it; the color made me feel more alive.
I remember being drawn to pop art at a very young age — Keith Haring, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol … There must have been a field trip to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., because I still remember how seeing the work of these artists in person felt for me.
As I grew older, other artists were added to my list — Alexander Calder, Mark Rothko, Pablo Picasso, Ellsworth Kelly, Helen Frankenthaler … and today, the list grows still to include many more female voices outside of the mainstream museums.
When it was time to think of my future beyond high school, and what I might major in, my family and I toured various colleges. My father tried to convince me to pursue medicine, and we looked at two options: pre-med and architecture. But now, he shrugs and says that as soon as he saw the way my eyes lit up when we walked into the architecture studios, he knew there was only one choice for me.
My memory of those studios is seeing student projects everywhere. It was controlled chaos in the way only creatives enjoy. I think someone may have even been sleeping under their desk. The studio was alive with color, conversation and buzzing energy.
Attending architecture school gave me a wonderful appreciation for the physicality of making. I learned screen printing, welding, woodworking, sculpture, photography — and to always, always have a sketchbook with me.
In 1996, I spent the summer working at an artist book press in Atlanta where I learned the art of bookbinding. Atlanta was the host city for the Olympics that year and we created gorgeous projects for the cultural Olympiad. I was very fortunate to be there during that exciting time.
After architecture, I pursued a graduate degree — with a focus on industrial design — in Los Angeles and spent a few years living along the Pacific Coast. This was when I started my first business.
After a fashion designer was a guest professor in our studio, I was inspired to sew, and started designing handbags that sold in boutiques in Los Angeles. I learned a lot from that experience — but the mountains were calling, and once my master’s degree was complete, I moved with a friend to Aspen, Colorado.
I have always been drawn to mountain towns that combine culture and outdoor adventures, and living there in my 20s was endlessly inspiring. This is where I found my first full-time design job, and I was fortunate to work with many of the cultural and outdoor companies that called Aspen home. It is also where I met my husband, who loved adventure as much as I did and just so happened to be from a town only 30 miles away from where I grew up.
After a few years, we packed up our Colorado life and drove back across the country to Charlottesville, Virginia, where we live now, and where my career as an independent artist really began.
When I first moved to Charlottesville, I was introduced to a group of creatives through a mutual friend from architecture. We’d meet monthly at each other’s homes and share stories, challenges, and wins from our creative practices. At this time, my business was focused more on illustration, stationery and graphic design. We put on two shows a year at various spaces in town, and it was a fantastic way to get involved with the artistic community. Over time, with the pandemic and with many of us having children, the group morphed, but we managed to stay in touch.
Once pandemic restrictions relaxed a bit, I went out for coffee with one of those friends, and she told me about an opening at Malleable Studios, a local artist space run by a mutual friend. I had been craving a studio outside of my home, and I jumped at the chance. I knew it would fill quickly, and I was more than ready for a new chapter. I week later, I signed on, and I’ve been here three years now!
The studio faces east, and natural light fills the space in the early morning. My painting space is an open two stories, and the top half of the east wall is entirely windows. There is a large garage door on the south wall directly beside my space. After having a home studio for so many years, the scale of this studio was intoxicating. I still get excited by the prospect of how large I can create here. Paintings that felt impossible before feel almost small on these walls.
My studio mates are all metalsmiths. I feel lucky to be painting among this thriving artistic community. It is refreshing and inspiring to be surrounded by creatives who approach art through an entirely different medium and at such a different scale.
When I moved in, my husband and I built extra studio walls and made sure to leave as much open wall space as possible for paintings. We brought in tables and installed a hanging system.
An unexpected surprise is that we get birds in the studio sometimes. They eventually find their way back out through an open window or door, but it feels special to have them flying by as I paint. I view them as a reminder of the influence behind all my work: the wonders of the natural world.
Our studio is a few blocks from downtown Charlottesville. There is a farmers’ market across the street in the summer, and there are a variety of other businesses that share the large warehouse building with us.
Directly next to our studio is a coffee roaster. So, every morning as I paint, I get to smell the intoxicating smell of roasting coffee. It can be a bit of a tease as they don’t sell their coffee from this location, but I often take a mid-afternoon break with a studio mate or two and visit one of the many local coffee shops in town.
Being part of a collaborative studio has been amazing. We host open studios a couple of times a year. We’ve had creative meetings on the solstice and hosted art nights. There is always conversation on how to create more community and how to support each other in art and in life.
Right now, there are eight of us in this space, but rarely are we all ever here together. Art can be a lonely pursuit, and I find the vitality of the space increasingly important to the sustainability of my practice.
I try to keep my studio purely as a creative space where I paint, draw and experiment. I keep my computer work — editing photos, emails, website updates, etc. — for my home office. This allows my head to stay clear and for me to be fully present in the moment while making. It is amazing what I can get done without distraction! I always find myself smiling when I walk out of the studio at the end of a good painting day, and my family loves that just as much as I do.
Over the years, my work has evolved to incorporate story more and more. Although always inspired by nature and architecture, I started out with a graphic, hard-edge style that focused on clean lines and flat color. It was extremely satisfying for me to translate a concept from my brain to canvas. I have never used tape in my process but instead enjoy breathing into the straight lines; it feels a bit like a slow-moving yoga pose.
As my work has progressed, I find myself embracing the human touches. I am still drawn to clean lines and strong forms, but I have learned to celebrate the unexpected — to see texture show through from the canvas or the imperfections of handmade paper … the way one color might bleed just a little into another and a stray paint splatter or brush stroke might be visible.
My current body of work, titled The Language of Form, originates from an exploration of architectural shapes symbolizing the evolving interaction between natural forces and external influences.
Having been drawn to color my whole life, I feel a natural confidence when it comes to using color boldly. I believe it is so important as an artist to trust yourself and be confident as you follow that inner guide. I am often told that my color choices are unexpected. I never knew what to make of that, as, for me, they are the exact color that is called for. But after a few arguments with my children, I have decided that I might just see color differently than most people, and that is an exciting discovery. It makes me consider color in an entirely new way, and that feels like a gift.
A benefit to having a studio outside my home is that I can welcome collectors into my space to see the paintings in person. I also work with multiple galleries and art consultants to sell my original paintings, create commissions for corporate projects and license prints. Nothing makes me happier than finding another of like mind to brainstorm and partner with for big projects.
Through art, I have met so many amazing artists and collectors. I’ve been fortunate to travel all over the U.S. and Europe with some of them. One of my future goals is to continue to travel through art residencies and other artistic pursuits.
As an artist and independent business owner, I have found that there are always highs and lows, and ebbs and flows, in my practice. Over the years I have found a few things that help me stay consistent and positive:
- I surround myself with supportive, inspiring people. Both physically and virtually. My family is endlessly encouraging. My studio mates are amazing, and I have multiple long- distance artist friends I meet with monthly via Zoom. We share wins, struggles, big goals and fresh perspectives.
- I have learned the power of manifesting. Every new year I list out my dreams — big, small, and absolutely wild. It gives me clarity and a hopeful anticipation of things to come. I love to look back at my lists over the years and am always overwhelmed by how many of the dreams have come true.I can honestly remember the first time I saw this magazine back in 2010. I was still dreaming of one day being a full-time artist with my own studio. Seeing other creative women and their spaces was truly such a gift.
- I pursue multiple outlets to share my work. It can be exhausting being a solo artist/business owner. You are the one who creates art (the amazing part), shares it with the world in person and online, corresponds with collectors, gives artist talks, teaches workshops, documents and shares the process, researches and pursues new opportunities, etc. (all the things).Having support is essential. I love working with my galleries and art consultants who promote and share my work. I love when projects overlap, and one leads to another. It is refreshing to have people to bounce ideas off and who will take my art that is still fresh and fragile and celebrate it with the world in a way I can’t always do. These relationships are essential for me.
- I remember to play and find time for experimentation. I’ve learned to be OK with making art that never gets shared with anyone.
- I try and celebrate my wins, even the tiny ones. They’ve all been a result of years of dreaming and building, failures and triumphs.
- I give back. It feeds my soul to know that my art has allowed me to support organizations I’m passionate about. From local art nonprofits to nature organizations to women’s initiatives, and many others.
Being an artist has afforded me so many amazing opportunities, and I feel overwhelmed sometimes when I stop to think about it. I am very much looking forward to what is ahead and would love for you to join me!
As a child, I was always drawn to color. Looking back at photos, you will find a smiling 9-year-old wearing a hot pink beret, large sunshine-yellow clip-on earrings, and bright patterned leggings. At the time, I had little care about what anyone else thought about it; the color made me feel more alive.
I remember being drawn to pop art at a very young age — Keith Haring, Roy Lichtenstein, Andy Warhol … There must have been a field trip to the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., because I still remember how seeing the work of these artists in person felt for me.
As I grew older, other artists were added to my list — Alexander Calder, Mark Rothko, Pablo Picasso, Ellsworth Kelly, Helen Frankenthaler … and today, the list grows still to include many more female voices outside of the mainstream museums.
When it was time to think of my future beyond high school, and what I might major in, my family and I toured various colleges. My father tried to convince me to pursue medicine, and we looked at two options: pre-med and architecture. But now, he shrugs and says that as soon as he saw the way my eyes lit up when we walked into the architecture studios, he knew there was only one choice for me.
My memory of those studios is seeing student projects everywhere. It was controlled chaos in the way only creatives enjoy. I think someone may have even been sleeping under their desk. The studio was alive with color, conversation and buzzing energy.
Attending architecture school gave me a wonderful appreciation for the physicality of making. I learned screen printing, welding, woodworking, sculpture, photography — and to always, always have a sketchbook with me.
In 1996, I spent the summer working at an artist book press in Atlanta where I learned the art of bookbinding. Atlanta was the host city for the Olympics that year and we created gorgeous projects for the cultural Olympiad. I was very fortunate to be there during that exciting time.
After architecture, I pursued a graduate degree — with a focus on industrial design — in Los Angeles and spent a few years living along the Pacific Coast. This was when I started my first business.
After a fashion designer was a guest professor in our studio, I was inspired to sew, and started designing handbags that sold in boutiques in Los Angeles. I learned a lot from that experience — but the mountains were calling, and once my master’s degree was complete, I moved with a friend to Aspen, Colorado.
I have always been drawn to mountain towns that combine culture and outdoor adventures, and living there in my 20s was endlessly inspiring. This is where I found my first full-time design job, and I was fortunate to work with many of the cultural and outdoor companies that called Aspen home. It is also where I met my husband, who loved adventure as much as I did and just so happened to be from a town only 30 miles away from where I grew up.
After a few years, we packed up our Colorado life and drove back across the country to Charlottesville, Virginia, where we live now, and where my career as an independent artist really began.
When I first moved to Charlottesville, I was introduced to a group of creatives through a mutual friend from architecture. We’d meet monthly at each other’s homes and share stories, challenges, and wins from our creative practices. At this time, my business was focused more on illustration, stationery and graphic design. We put on two shows a year at various spaces in town, and it was a fantastic way to get involved with the artistic community. Over time, with the pandemic and with many of us having children, the group morphed, but we managed to stay in touch.
Once pandemic restrictions relaxed a bit, I went out for coffee with one of those friends, and she told me about an opening at Malleable Studios, a local artist space run by a mutual friend. I had been craving a studio outside of my home, and I jumped at the chance. I knew it would fill quickly, and I was more than ready for a new chapter. I week later, I signed on, and I’ve been here three years now!
The studio faces east, and natural light fills the space in the early morning. My painting space is an open two stories, and the top half of the east wall is entirely windows. There is a large garage door on the south wall directly beside my space. After having a home studio for so many years, the scale of this studio was intoxicating. I still get excited by the prospect of how large I can create here. Paintings that felt impossible before feel almost small on these walls.
My studio mates are all metalsmiths. I feel lucky to be painting among this thriving artistic community. It is refreshing and inspiring to be surrounded by creatives who approach art through an entirely different medium and at such a different scale.
When I moved in, my husband and I built extra studio walls and made sure to leave as much open wall space as possible for paintings. We brought in tables and installed a hanging system.
An unexpected surprise is that we get birds in the studio sometimes. They eventually find their way back out through an open window or door, but it feels special to have them flying by as I paint. I view them as a reminder of the influence behind all my work: the wonders of the natural world.
Our studio is a few blocks from downtown Charlottesville. There is a farmers’ market across the street in the summer, and there are a variety of other businesses that share the large warehouse building with us.
Directly next to our studio is a coffee roaster. So, every morning as I paint, I get to smell the intoxicating smell of roasting coffee. It can be a bit of a tease as they don’t sell their coffee from this location, but I often take a mid-afternoon break with a studio mate or two and visit one of the many local coffee shops in town.
Being part of a collaborative studio has been amazing. We host open studios a couple of times a year. We’ve had creative meetings on the solstice and hosted art nights. There is always conversation on how to create more community and how to support each other in art and in life.
Right now, there are eight of us in this space, but rarely are we all ever here together. Art can be a lonely pursuit, and I find the vitality of the space increasingly important to the sustainability of my practice.
I try to keep my studio purely as a creative space where I paint, draw and experiment. I keep my computer work — editing photos, emails, website updates, etc. — for my home office. This allows my head to stay clear and for me to be fully present in the moment while making. It is amazing what I can get done without distraction! I always find myself smiling when I walk out of the studio at the end of a good painting day, and my family loves that just as much as I do.
Over the years, my work has evolved to incorporate story more and more. Although always inspired by nature and architecture, I started out with a graphic, hard-edge style that focused on clean lines and flat color. It was extremely satisfying for me to translate a concept from my brain to canvas. I have never used tape in my process but instead enjoy breathing into the straight lines; it feels a bit like a slow-moving yoga pose.
As my work has progressed, I find myself embracing the human touches. I am still drawn to clean lines and strong forms, but I have learned to celebrate the unexpected — to see texture show through from the canvas or the imperfections of handmade paper … the way one color might bleed just a little into another and a stray paint splatter or brush stroke might be visible.
My current body of work, titled The Language of Form, originates from an exploration of architectural shapes symbolizing the evolving interaction between natural forces and external influences.
Having been drawn to color my whole life, I feel a natural confidence when it comes to using color boldly. I believe it is so important as an artist to trust yourself and be confident as you follow that inner guide. I am often told that my color choices are unexpected. I never knew what to make of that, as, for me, they are the exact color that is called for. But after a few arguments with my children, I have decided that I might just see color differently than most people, and that is an exciting discovery. It makes me consider color in an entirely new way, and that feels like a gift.
A benefit to having a studio outside my home is that I can welcome collectors into my space to see the paintings in person. I also work with multiple galleries and art consultants to sell my original paintings, create commissions for corporate projects and license prints. Nothing makes me happier than finding another of like mind to brainstorm and partner with for big projects.
Through art, I have met so many amazing artists and collectors. I’ve been fortunate to travel all over the U.S. and Europe with some of them. One of my future goals is to continue to travel through art residencies and other artistic pursuits.
As an artist and independent business owner, I have found that there are always highs and lows, and ebbs and flows, in my practice. Over the years I have found a few things that help me stay consistent and positive:
- I surround myself with supportive, inspiring people. Both physically and virtually. My family is endlessly encouraging. My studio mates are amazing, and I have multiple long- distance artist friends I meet with monthly via Zoom. We share wins, struggles, big goals and fresh perspectives.
- I have learned the power of manifesting. Every new year I list out my dreams — big, small, and absolutely wild. It gives me clarity and a hopeful anticipation of things to come. I love to look back at my lists over the years and am always overwhelmed by how many of the dreams have come true.I can honestly remember the first time I saw this magazine back in 2010. I was still dreaming of one day being a full-time artist with my own studio. Seeing other creative women and their spaces was truly such a gift.
- I pursue multiple outlets to share my work. It can be exhausting being a solo artist/business owner. You are the one who creates art (the amazing part), shares it with the world in person and online, corresponds with collectors, gives artist talks, teaches workshops, documents and shares the process, researches and pursues new opportunities, etc. (all the things).Having support is essential. I love working with my galleries and art consultants who promote and share my work. I love when projects overlap, and one leads to another. It is refreshing to have people to bounce ideas off and who will take my art that is still fresh and fragile and celebrate it with the world in a way I can’t always do. These relationships are essential for me.
- I remember to play and find time for experimentation. I’ve learned to be OK with making art that never gets shared with anyone.
- I try and celebrate my wins, even the tiny ones. They’ve all been a result of years of dreaming and building, failures and triumphs.
- I give back. It feeds my soul to know that my art has allowed me to support organizations I’m passionate about. From local art nonprofits to nature organizations to women’s initiatives, and many others.
Being an artist has afforded me so many amazing opportunities, and I feel overwhelmed sometimes when I stop to think about it. I am very much looking forward to what is ahead and would love for you to join me!
