With my school-aged kids, this stretch of the year always feels strangely compressed. Dance recitals, end-of- year events, birthdays, and school activities all seem to stack on top of each other in the calendar. The days start feeling very full in every direction. But still, art continues quietly threading itself through the middle of it. Definitely not through long uninterrupted studio days or large finished canvases, but through sketchbooks left open on tables or quick flow

Tetons, majestic. 24"x36" oil on wood panel. Paintings are made in the studio, but they are not meant to stay there. Their studio beginning is the start of their movement into the world. I love the transition from something I saw, just a quick reference photo, to something physical, a piece of art that goes out and finds its place to live. When painting, I have to constantly step back because it's hard to see the whole painting. The process is about inches and small decisi

This is the first painting from a new series. I’ve been thinking about place and belonging. In this one, the grasses are close and the space feels full and alive. It’s slightly enclosed, but there are openings and movement throughout. Not quite open, not quite closed. It feels like the kind of place where you decide to step forward or stay. It’s a moment of hesitation as you choose. Full of possibility and wonder, but also the pull of known safety and remaining where you are.

I recently spent time painting with the 2nd and 4th graders at St. Edward’s Catholic School in Twin Falls on a collaborative project for their annual benefit gala.