ARTIST STATEMENT
My paintings are a reflection on the special connection between humans and nature.
We breathe more deeply in the woods. Trees produce oxygen, filter water, provide shade, habitats, food, and shelter. Humans can’t breathe, or live on this planet, without trees. Yet trees are threatened by human activity. As global temperatures and occurrences of flood and drought increase, trees are affected. Humans may be able to move away from impacted areas, but trees are literally rooted where they stand, left to suffer the consequences of our actions. Standing in an old growth redwood forest, we might feel a sense of timeless enduring, but science prompts us to wonder: which trees will survive, and where?
My paintings depict preserved and open space in Northern California. Reverence for nature is aroused, and we are asked to recall our emotional experiences of these places. Standing in a cathedral of trees and taking a deep breath can remind us of our essence. Alongside these affirmative memories, there may also be distress, knowing these forest ecosystems may be dramatically altered in our lifetime.
I once examined tree groves through the lens of an artist studying her subject. Today I see them as a concerned citizen and mother. I hike with my toddler, and she breathes in the forest, unaware that her generation will face consequences of climate change beyond anything humankind has yet experienced. As I expose my daughter to these beautiful trees that have stood for ages, I am walking into the woods with time on both sides.
PROCESS
What I experience in nature shapes what I create the studio: paintings that explore the diverse Northern California landscape, depicting rolling hillsides, haunting forests, and the sensual fog that engulfs the Bay Area much of the year. My images portray the natural world, showing sky, dense mist, wooded passages, and thick ground cover.
These landscapes are not rendered to be photographic representations but rather to offer atmospheric approximations. I begin by setting up an abstract field that opens up into the specific. My approach places great emphasis on the physicality of the painting process and how the exchanges between color, form, and gestural linework can define shapes for our eyes to follow.
In depicting details like the rough bark of a tree, or the veiny luminosity of leaves, my paintings stop at insinuation, breaking the image into sweeping blocks of color and shape. Nebulous and occasionally obscure expanses of color are lent subtle definition by linework, delicately and thinly carved into drying paint by pencil, and at other times, by thick, oily and hard pastel mark-making that divides space, contouring the edges of trees, mountain peaks, or the horizon. Brushstrokes take care not to appear too precious, nor too controlled, developing as the result of multiple different and slightly changed layers.
The use of color itself diverges from exact and real world replication, prioritizing emotional response over representational accuracy. As if your senses have been heightened and distorted from psychedelic interference, you see vibrant crimson when looking at the forest floor, and fallen leaves underfoot boldly appear aqua, lime, and emerald. Gradually lightened hues become sunlight sneaking through the tops of towering trees to break up the moody, fuzzy mix of tree trunks, fog, leaves, and branches, moving your eyes away from gravity’s pull and closer to the expanses of the stratosphere.
Abstraction is not my only deviation from traditional landscape painting. My compositions place you at close proximity. Both the golden ratio and horizons become optional. The physical edges of the painting serve as limits around the unknown, creating architectural openings into environments that appear mysterious without becoming ominous. You wait at the threshold, offered the woods and fields as a grounding space to explore. When you reach the edges of the painting, you must rely on memory and engage imagination to see into the periphery.
My paintings are invitations. Stand where I have stood. Recall and relive the sensations experienced walking along trails, under forest canopies, and exploring the wilderness.
BIO
Originally from North Carolina, I moved to the Bay Area in 2016 to enjoy the abundance of nature year-round.
Over time, my west coast roots grew. I found myself grounded, like no time before, when I was outside. I took to the trails in Alameda, Contra Costa, Marin, and Sonoma counties. I would drink in the scent of fresh air and my entire being was transformed. My explorations through open space preserves and state and regional parks revealed how sacred the natural world is. Redwood giants stand as testimony to the endurance of life. A simple walk in the woods can be a profound experience, providing sanctuary from our fears and anxieties, and moving us to live up to our roles as stewards of the earth.
Countless hikes fed my soul and yielded constant inspiration. The feelings I soaked up along trails and under forest canopies fueled my time painting in the studio. The bold abstractions that previously defined my style gave way to lush and gestural landscapes.
A graduate of the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) in Baltimore, MD, I have been exhibiting work professionally since 2008 in group and solo shows across Baltimore, Philadelphia, Greensboro, Berkeley, Alameda, San Pablo and Oakland.