art

Studio Update

I recently entered the Colorado Springs Art Guild Spring Show, Impressions, and I'm thrilled that one of my pieces won 2nd place. It's an older piece that increases exponentially in meaning for me as I near the "launching" of my oldest child, who graduates from high school next month. My heart pleads and trusts daily for his…Read more Studio Update

Battered Little Tree

when harsh winds blow and I stand exposed with no hope of my own, battered and bruised: wrestling an angry sky, clinging to barren rock, bound by sedimentary days then - probe deep let questions fuel furious chiseling through, let desperate seeking leech Presence from silence oh, little tree swallowed by rock too grand, sky…Read more Battered Little Tree

An Open Letter to al Shabab, and a Painting in Honor of the Kenyans Who Died

You cannot put out the light. It is like an unruly spark. When you try to suppress it, it divides into a thousand flying embers. You thought you extinguished the light when they lay dead at your feet, no longer praying to the God you despise; but look around, it ignites in my heart! It…Read more An Open Letter to al Shabab, and a Painting in Honor of the Kenyans Who Died

Art Process – mixing media

I learned to paint in my teenage years using watercolor. I invested income from summer jobs into private lessons with a local artist, renowned watercolorist Claudette Beddingfield. I fell in love with watercolor’s fluidity, spontaneity, and transparency. In college I discovered the power of line as it whispers and shouts, hints and exclaims. Combining watercolor with graphite and…Read more Art Process – mixing media

Painting Courage

The trouble with courage is that we don’t know if we have it until the moment we need it – until we’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to plunge to depths below, or to spread our wings and fly. And really, it’s not until the desperation passes that, looking back, we see…Read more Painting Courage

Sifted Into Gold, again

I return to an old, rutted road marked with a faded sign, almost hidden in untamed overgrowth: "Welcome poor in spirit." But with just one step, my eyes open in wonder. The promise isn't posted on a sign, for it is evident to all who dare stumble down its mysterious twists and turns, "for theirs…Read more Sifted Into Gold, again

Elijah’s Birds

In the wilderness, I build a fire for you. I call you softly by name: come, creep near, warm your hands, shelter in my arms. Like a fearful animal, afraid to trust but desperately cold with nowhere else to turn, you come. We huddle together against howling gusts. But without warning, a wind-whisper triggers memories just…Read more Elijah’s Birds

Art As Sacred Exchange

In the last ten days, hell-flames burned near; but hope-fire blazed ever more real. At times I felt trampled, like grass in a flood:  soggy and mud clogged, bent under raging billows. Sometimes I felt like a tree surviving a winter storm, battered but proud, lifting weathered defiant arms in worship. Many times Elijah’s birds…Read more Art As Sacred Exchange

Courage Not My Own

Someone I dearly love is battling acute mental illness. I am scared, I am overwhelmed. My heart breaks for the one I love. I am trying to be brave. I turn to the One who knows, who keeps track:  of my every tossing through the night, of every wandering of the one I love. I…Read more Courage Not My Own