I was born in 1962. In 1966 I was given a crayon. It all went to hell from there.
I was that little tot who walked around the outside of the house (four times, to be exact) leaving a trail with a purple crayon. I was also the one who drew on the bottom my mother’s coffee table. She says now that she wishes she still had that coffee table.
It would have been cruel to my soul
not to be an artist.
I sketched a lot growing up and took some small college fine art classes. I was told I had real talent. I was also told that artists can’t make a living making art and I believed that part of the story, at least for a long time.
Then I changed my mind.
At first I became a photographer since I loved people and it seemed like something I could make a living at. I was right, and I did, and it was…for thirteen years. I owned and operated a highly successful studio in Rhode Island.
At some point I began to feel unrest in my heart. I needed to return to painting. There was a fire that would not go out. It really was my first love.
In 2001, I closed my photography studio forever and moved to Florida and bought a sailboat (and if that seems random, it kind of was).
I returned to taking some painting classes and even sculpted and threw pottery for a while, but painting started to take up more and more of my time and other creative endeavors took less and less.
In 2006, I had my first solo art show and sold my very first piece.
In 2009, life took another turn and I moved to Raleigh, North Carolina. This was a real turning point for my art and my career. I lost my tribe. I lost my footing. It wasn’t long before I realized that I was meant to step into my bigger self. I made a monumental decision. I announced to myself and the world that I would make a run for it as a nationally recognized artist.