Oils
I was born with a tactile understanding of art. Portraits on kitchen doors as a toddler morphed into teenage murals of album covers on bedroom walls. My father and grandmother were artists. Their work hangs in my home and I often wonder if this is a family trait. Everything is a palette. Rosebuds on stucco are awesome, the cleanup when your Aunt catches you, not so much. Cases of lipstick samples applied to walls, a delight. Before I was out of my teens, I’d burned pots of homemade dyes, won local contests, school awards, and sold my first commission.
Raised in the Tahoe basin, I’ve been steeped in the Sierra’s my entire life. Work and family often took me away, but the mountains are my soul. Aboard a Coast Guard Cutter in the Berring Sea, I embroidered crew coveralls, put pen and ink to paper, and tried to capture the northern lights. Flying for a living, I traveled with tiny sets of watercolor, and like a magpie, collected bits and bobs of creativity from around the globe.
Life has been a fabulous adventure and along the way, I’ve managed to learn from some terrific teachers, mentors and peers. I’ve learned from Jim Henson of the Muppets, and the delightful painter, Skip Whitcomb, who’s shown me how to narrow my overstuffed drawers of paint down to the perfect palettes.
Art has always been life. When I discovered oils, it became a calling.