As this year ends, and a new one begins, I can’t shake this sense of doom. When will this evil regime fail? Will my health remain steady and strong? Is this my last year? Will it be a strong one?
My art practice—daily drawing, watercolor, and small paintings—has grown lighter as I wait out this difficult time. My black-and-white work feels too heavy now. I am trying to find moments of joy in a small space, at my dining room table. I am working with color, texture, and different materials, at different scales, in the hope of lifting my spirit.
And so I have been drawing, painting, playing, wiping out, printing, and sketching—doing whatever I can to find joy in the midst of such violence and sorrow.
At the same time, my work about protection feels sadly relevant. I never imagined needing protection from our own government, or that so many hardworking people who came here seeking safety would now feel threatened. I struggle with this question: is it self-centered to speak about the protection I seek—from my own fears and inner struggles—when so many others are seeking protection from an authoritarian system?
How many people might recognize this Audubon bird caller? Made of wood and metal, it sings when the two parts are twisted just right—suddenly a robin or a sparrow appears in sound. Its Connecticut roots make it especially meaningful to me. I wasn’t sure at first how to compose this piece or what surface to use, until my husband suggested newsprint. It felt immediately right, echoing my other work in which I build rocks and branches from newspaper and wheat paste. The familiar material grounds the object, letting memory, place, and sound quietly meet.
9″ x 12″ | Watercolor on Paper
This 11″ x 14″ piece on Strathmore drawing paper began as a collage and eventually became a watercolor. I used Kuretake Gansai Tambi pan paints, letting the layers evolve naturally as the work took shape. I titled it Beer Cans because the glued forms reminded me of cans—and also as a quiet nod to my husband, who designs the artwork for East Rock Brewery here in New Haven. Adding the menu helped anchor that connection, reinforcing the idea that these shapes are meant for consuming, both visually and literally.
Three apples and a single lime rest on a yellow plate edged in blue, set on a table in an open field. I have long been drawn to Cézanne’s still lifes—the way layers of color reveal themselves along the edges: yellow, red, green, and more, quietly stacked and alive. In my own work, I often compose objects so they move off the page, in one direction or several, as if the viewer has stepped in close. This painting is an intimate moment, a small study of color, balance, and looking closely.
Watercolor on 11″ x 14″ Strathmore Drawing Paper.
Fruit on a Table and Audubon Bird Caller are available for purchase online.
My process is layered, layering. I build my work from flat bits of cardboard that, with the help of masking tape and glue, become a structure, a rock, a wall medallion, a house, a cave. I use newspaper and wheat paste and recently plaster. I am interested in creating works that feel discovered, like they were always there but behind something, under something, recently brought to light.
—”an oval or circular painting, panel, or design used to decorate a building or textile.”
And now there are three with one more in production. All of these medallions will address the female form, actually, bits and pieces of the female body. Breasts, hair, brains, hands, and more. 
