I have been creating art for as long as I can remember. As a young child, I would copy comics from the newspaper, long before I could read or understand what they meant. Everything around me would turn into an artful creation...painted rocks, telephone wire jewelry, oatmeal sculptures. My parents realized early on that I needed more outlets for my creativity than my classroom curriculum provided, so at the age of nine, they enrolled me in the adult evening art classes at the Everhart Museum in my hometown of Scranton, Pennsylvania.
These classes opened my eyes to endless possibilities. I was fascinated by the many ways to make art and the occasional references to different artists and art movements. I was sure, from that point on, that making art would be the focus in my life.
After receiving my BFA from Tyler School of Art, I continued to explore art in many different ways and through different mediums, experimenting with printmaking, photography and textile arts. I began painting murals. I enjoyed the physicality and challenges of painting on a large scale in public settings, as well as the intimacy of creating unique environments in private spaces. The many years spent as a muralist and decorative painter gave me the opportunity to connect with so many people and to grow as an artist.
It wasn't until after my son was born that I discovered my true passion for oil painting. I mostly paint still life and figures. Most recently, I have been painting fish. I love their graceful movement, vivid color and simple beauty. I love the way light hits the body of a fish and creates a luminous glow, one that I am continually striving to capture on canvas. The vessels that contain them provide endless inspiration as well. The prisms of color reflected on the rim of a bowl or the surface of the water present an exciting challenge to capture with paint.
For me, fish represent so many things - harmony, tranquility, and peacefulness, as well as feelings of loneliness and isolation.
Painting, to me, is both a discipline and a meditation. It's a time to observe, a time to connect, both inside and out. A time to get lost and to find myself again.