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the job of the artist is to deepen the mystery

– francis bacon, irish painter

NEST PAINTINGS

deep BREAKTHROUGH –  Most of my nest paintings have focused on the gestation phase, symbolizing the time it takes for an embryonic idea to find its form. This one insisted on catching the liminal moment when the bird has broken through the shell, but has not yet emerged. The process is exhausting for the hatchling, requiring intense chipping away at the shell, followed by rest. This 4 ‘ x 4’ painting of a ground nest (spotted Towhee) was part of the juried Fine Arts Show at the Anacortes Arts Festival. Available for purchase, $2000.

I became fascinated with bird nests in the 1990s as a powerful metaphor for creation.

After the storms had brought chaos and turbulence, the birds would use the blowdown — the deadwood, what was broken, what had been ripped away – to weave a vessel for something new to come into being.

Since then, I have painted hundreds and hundreds of nests. My intention with the paintings is to help people mark a transformation in their lives: a birth, betrothal, a new home, a transition or threshold of some kind. They can also be used to symbolize a Dream that the soul has yet to bring to life.

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My work has been shown in
  • Santa Fe, New Mexico
  • Seattle, Washington
  • Dallas, Texas
  • Anacortes, Washington
  • Lopez Island, Washington
  • Museum of Northwest Art
  • Santa Cruz, California

PRINTS

FIELD NOTES

This new series spotlights the amazing designs found in nature and the way all of life is designed for renewal. 

SOLD WORK

sampling of sold works, also available as prints

HOW I BECAME A “REAL” ARTIST

In the winter of 1996, I embarked on a pilgrimage to the Land of Enchantment, also known as New Mexico, and the place where I was born.
I stood in the world’s largest gypsum sand field, where the dunes drift over 275 square miles, creating massive hills sculpted by the wind’s hand: smooth on one side, ridged like waves on the other. Tall clusters of creamy flowers, encircled by the spiked yucca leaves, poked the cobalt sky. In between the mounds, troughs and indentations called “slacks” create an other-worldly landscape. White Sands National Monument seemed like a sacred portal, so I went there to pray.

I shimmied down into a 15-foot slack and lay my body against the cool sand. My plea was for help to become an artist, which ordinarily is not a mystery—paint and sell is basically how it goes. Of course I did not want to be a regular artist. I wanted my paintings to be like a prayer, a thread connecting the seen and the unseen worlds.  I wanted to infuse them with a sacredness, like old-ways medicine or magic, to be a milestone on someone’s life journey.

Admittedly, saying prayers in a slack is not considered the most direct route to becoming an artist.

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