paintings

Synthesis . 24x36 . 2011






1. natural light
2. artificial interior light
3. artificial and uv light combined
4. uv light only (blacklight)
5. no light (glow in the dark)

Ingredients: acrylic, phosphorescent pigments, crushed glass, varnish, water & light

I envy the room this painting will live in. Not because of the painting itself (although I think it's awesome) but because the *room* is awesome. It's a sunroom, with a fireplace and an attached deck, and giant windows that overlook a full wall of the prettiest, greenest trees I've ever seen. I can't imagine what it must be like to live there. I don't really think I'd leave that room much. Seriously, it's like my dream room.

The colors in this piece are intended to reflect that. It changes from olive and teal to orange and blue just by walking past it. 


^Viewed from the left.


^Viewed from the right.

I'm very excited to see what it will become in a room that's so alive with light and movement. I've intended it to reflect and change as the sun moves across the sky each day, mirroring the outside world as Amanda and Robert enjoy life from the inside. In natural daylight the painting already leans very green, and I'm sure this will be enhanced by reflecting the color of the outside trees. At night the tones warm up to darker golds.

The painting itself was made for the sun and trees. Just as the trees change colors all year, so will the painting. The daytime should be a direct reflection of what color is outside, in the sky and all around their home.

I love working with the seasons. Adding yearly transits and seasonal cycles to interact with my art makes me feel like I am part of something so much greater. I use our very sun to paint with.

:)

The Shire . 24x36 inches . 2011

1.

2.

3.


4.

5.

6.

7.

1. morning (natural light)
2. noon (natural light)
3. late afternoon (natural light)
4. evening (interior artificial light)
5. Midsummer's Eve party is beginning! (interior and UV black light combined)
6. Gandalf's firework show (UV light only)
7. Time to sleep and dream (no light / glow in the dark)

Ingredients: acrylic, sand, phosphorescent pigments, crushed glass, glass beads, water & light on canvas

I'm showing you 3 different natural lighting pictures so you can really see how it changes when the sun moves across the sky during the day. :)

When my friend Beth texted me to ask if I'd be willing to do a painting based on the Shire, I said yes immediately, despite "landscapes" not being something I normally paint. I knew exactly what it would look like the moment I saw her text. The final painting isn't much different from the sketch I jotted down minutes after telling her I would do it.



The sky changes colors! Of course it does. It's THE SHIRE.


^Viewed from the left.


^Viewed from the right.

The stained glass windows of the hobbit hole change colors too. :) Check out picture #4 up top.

Every hobbit hole needs a fancy door.



Fireflies. They stay twinkling even after the fireworks have gone out. :)

Beth wanted a painting of her favorite place, something that inspired her and gave her a calm, peaceful mindset in which she could write. (She's a writer!) The Shire is her favorite place, I think, and I like to pretend that it exists somewhere out there. She and I both share Hawaii as a profoundly inspiring (real life) place, so I felt I knew a bit where she was coming from. I read The Hobbit while making this painting, and it influenced every step I took. As I experienced Bilbo's journey, I kept asking myself what *I* would want to return home to after such an ordeal.

Man that book is awesome. Have you read it? Of course you have. I hadn't, technically, it felt like I had, I knew the story, it had been repeated to me endlessly by Colin and our friends over the last 10 years and I knew all about the Shire, of course, that was something that always really resonated with me. But obviously The Hobbit is a whole different (smaller, cuter) beast than Lord of the Rings and I was wrong to think I knew everything I needed to know about Bilbo and him going There and Back Again and omg how many ponies had to die in the making of that story?

Anyway. Fantastic book. The only bad part about it was that it ended. Well, I guess, except for the three other (giant) books that come after it. Anyway.

Just so we're clear, this is not Bilbo's house. This is Beth's house.

Beth, I've stocked it up with ale and pies, a few cakes, some tobacco, and plenty of wood to get you through the first leg of your stay, but you'll likely need to fill it back up before you move to Vancouver. There's plenty of rooms though, you won't ever be without pies and visitors. May this painting bring the Shire to you and serve as the perfect writer's retreat no matter where you live. :)

Sacred Space . 30x40 inches . 2011






1. natural light (bright, clean, direct daylight)
2. natural light (warmer sunset daylight)
3. interior light (direct artificial lights, warm toned)
4. mixed interior and uv black light
5. uv light only (with a blacklight)
6. no light (glow in the dark)

Ingredients: acrylic, candle wax, beach sand, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

Perhaps you've seen this design before. (If not, you're gonna have to search it out in my portfolio.) The original, Thin Space, was my first professionally sold painting, completed in 2006, a little over 5 years ago. I've played with the design on request a little bit here and there, though this is the first time I've recreated it on the exact same size canvas. 

It's funny (to me) how people react to it. Everyone in my life seems to have a profound relationship with Thin Space, for whatever reason, probably because it was the painting I announced my career with. As an artist, my relationship with it has evolved much in the same way my techniques and inspirations have evolved. They are definitely no longer the same. It's not just that I cannot create a piece exactly as it was, although I can't. I don't even use the same materials. There's no possible way to get the paint to dry exactly as it did on a previous painting. More importantly, I wouldn't choose to. My art now is a reflection of my life now, just as it was then. Who I am, and the person I've become is reflected directly in what I create.

This painting is not in competition with Thin Space. This is who I am now. I made it to be what I see now. I reworked a few things I wanted changed, of course, but mostly it's that my exploration of the concept is fundamentally different. Today, I see Thin Space as mother-of-pearl, and almost futuristic looking. Shiny, glassy, new. I have moved beyond what I liked five years ago. They both represent different phases of me. I wouldn't expect anyone to say that I, myself, was better 5 years ago, or better now. I'm just different. (Actually, I do think I'm better today than 5 years ago, but that's another blog post.)

Either way, I think I'm going to retire this design for now. Maybe in another 5 years I'll make it again, to see how I've changed. I like using this painting as a benchmark for my progress. It seems fitting. Thin Spaces are a constant in all my paintings, though the titles may change. I paint This Spaces. That's what I do. 


As viewed from the left.


As viewed from the right. See how the color changes?



Whatever your opinions are about this piece, I see it as better, because I see myself as better. It's not about the painting. It's about who I've become. I will be different in 5 years, I promise. It's a good thing. 

"You cannot step into the same river twice." -Heraclitus

Watching Over . 24x30 inches . 2011





 1. natural light
2. artificial light
3. artificial and black light
4. blacklight only
5. darkness

When my collector Tina and I first discussed the making of this painting, she asked me to make it as Light Reactive as possible, using lots of glass and phosphorescent pigments. Done and done.

The moon shifts from violet to blue-green, depending on the time of day. The ocean waves shift from gold to white to green.

It's one of those pieces that can't be fully appreciated through the lens of a camera since it changes so distinctly as you walk past it. Two people standing on either side of the painting will think it's a different color.

I love making stuff. :)

Moon over water paintings are possibly my favorite pieces to do. It's not just that I find the concept and end result to be peaceful, but the very act of creating it and experiencing its progress puts me in a calm state of mind. (Something I often need anyway, especially when I have lots of work to do.)

Tina's father passed away a few months ago, just before I began work on this painting. Everyone called him Kick. I wrote his name underneath the moon, and I hope that this artwork will honor him and serve as a beacon of peace and serenity for Tina and her family. 


Morning and Evening Series

I started these many, many moons ago and had to put them aside during most of the last year due to time constraints with my Studio C Show, Japan, and Joey.

Morning Series:



 (natural light, mixed uv & artificial light, blacklight, no light)

Evening Series:



(natural light, mixed uv & artificial light, blacklight, no light)


I really do enjoy making things in sets. I have a couple of sets I'm planning for the next collection, although those are intended to be quite large. These are more like mini sets. :)

They're also the last I'll be doing at this size for a long time. I have a bazillion plans and at the moment, I'm out of this size canvas with no intention to order more until I have completed a bunch of other pieces. As of this blog post, one of them is already spoken for, but the Evening Set is still available. Be quick! They go fast.  --Now sold. :)

In other news, our house is finally getting put back together. Bizarrely, I felt as though the month and a half of life with cement floors may have been a blessing of sorts, since I was ultimately able to do four months of work in a month's period of time. I'm nearing the end of all my current commissions. Between the freedom to work over a larger (non-carpeted) space, and not having a car and therefore being trapped here with piles of furniture everywhere, I really focused in on my art, perhaps as a distraction from the chaos. Whatever the motivation, I'm going to try and keep up the pace.

I am, however, happy to have our house back again.

Happy June! I love June. It's always been my most creative month. :)

Rising (An Ode to Japan) . 40x30 inches . 2011





1. natural lighting
2. artificial lighting
3. artificial and UV lighting combined
4. UV lighting only
5. no light

Ingredients: acrylic, beach sand, candle wax, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

Oh, Japan.

You've been on my mind for decades. I always knew that one day we would meet. I've admired your style, your history, your food, your people for so long now. I feel like I know you, yet I haven't actually seen you for myself. I just totally dig you. You're shiny and neat and I want to introduce myself, up close and personal.

Things were so much simpler last month.

It's heartbreaking what you're going through. It's devastating to watch. You're all over the news. People are saying some pretty intense things about you. It's difficult to weed through the hype to find the truth. Some people feel we shouldn't meet just yet. They want us to wait. We've waited my whole life, and they think we should wait longer.

Sometimes it just takes my breath away to imagine what you must be feeling right now. So few of us can really imagine. This is an unbelievably awful thing you're faced with.

I believe in you, Japan. You're ancient and wise and I trust your ability to come through. You're more capable to handle a situation such as this than anyone else.

Although I will be hundreds of miles from the affected areas, my heart is with all of you. It will be an honor to stand with your people and support those who are facing disaster right now. I hope and pray that my presence in your land shows you how much those of us in my country support you. I am not afraid.

One day this will all be a memory, and your Greatness will shine even brighter than before. You will rise up. You will conquer tragedy. You will stand as a beacon of human perseverance and strength.

I'll be seeing you next week. The cherry blossoms are coming. I bet they'll look more beautiful this year than any year before it. Though my personal sadness over the last month cannot compare to yours, I hope this time can be a renewal for us both. Let's hold hands and take one step forward together. We might just rise higher than we ever dreamed.




I love the gritty, sandy, crackly texture. This painting is deceptively colorful. In the sunlight, there's hints of blue and yellow and orange, almost shining straight through the darkness. It sparkles in the light, oh-so-subtly.

I'm proud of this painting.

Though I normally donate 10% of all money made through art to Acres of Love, I'm donating that percentage of Rising to The Red Cross, to help with the disaster in Japan, or wherever else in the world needs help and funding for disaster relief. There's certainly no shortage of countries who need the help. Sometimes it seems as though the planet is just cracking in two, doesn't it? I hope this artwork can serve as my hope and prayer for all those affected by such disasters. It would be impossible to overcome if we weren't all working together.

The final image, glowing in the darkness, is what I believe for the future of Japan. A peaceful sky, a full, rising sun. Light. Hope. Beauty. I have no doubts it will be so.

This is my final painting to be shown in my Studio C Artists Collection. The show is tomorrow night, March 26th, from 6-10pm. One night only! I truly hope you can make it. Many of these paintings have already sold, so there will not be a second opportunity to see (most of) them again.


Make a night of it. Get dinner in LA, and stop by for a bit to have a glass of wine and look at some art. There's beer too! I'd love to talk with you. It's kind of like a party. :) Here's where you should go:

Studio C Artists
6448 Santa Monica Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90038


View Larger Map

There's parking on the street, and a couple of lots nearby.

I'm really excited. It's been an interesting month! I'm looking forward to celebrating all the work I've done, seeing friends, meeting new ones, and then resting briefly before we embark on the biggest trip of our lives. Quite a time to be alive. I'm feeling grateful for every moment.

Joy . 24x30 inches . 2011





1. natural lighting
2. artificial lighting
3. combined UV and artificial lighting
4. UV lighting only
5. no light

Ingredients: acrylic, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, Joey's Love, varnish, water & light on canvas.

During the last week of Joey's life, I cleared the downstairs of everything and stopped working. Nothing, no show, no trip, was more important to me than Joey. I wanted him to have full reign of wherever he wanted to go. He spent a lot of time sleeping in the sun. He would stand in front of the screen door and seemed to be looking outside. He was quite blind by this point, so I'm not certain what he was looking at, but it was clear the sunlight appealed to him.

This particular painting was closest to the outside, and I realized he spent quite a bit of time next to it. I let him. Whatever he wanted to do. He and I would lie next to it together, talking, napping. I stroked his face while he slept, telling him how much I loved him, how beautiful he was.


I knew we were destined for each other from the first moment I saw him. I spent years wanting a dog, and months looking for the "right" puppy. I saw many, many litters of them. But the first time I laid eyes on Joey, I knew he was the one. It was fate. Magic.

He was a very special dog. He was the happiest soul I've ever known. Just being around him made you feel like life was awesome. He was thrilled to be alive, every moment of his 15 years. He seemed to look at the world and find it magnificent. You couldn't help but have his joy rub off on you.

A long time ago a friend commented that, "Every moment is the BEST moment in Joey's life." If only we could all live like that.

Our BFF and Best Man Joe, who proudly shared his name with Joey, said this: "As a breed of shepherd, Joey would often gently nudge me from one end of the apartment we shared to another, in accordance with whatever byzantine organization known only to him. Most pet owners tend to project a personality on their pets, but Joey projected his demeanor on you. I was fortunate enough to know Joey, and I cannot stress enough how much of an effect he had on everyone who knew him, even curmudgeonly "non-pet" people. His was as noble a soul as I have come across."


I told Colin, after Joey's passing, that the one thing I wanted to take with me most was the pure joy that Joey lived his life with. He was so happy, and it made me happy to experience it. I tend to be a cynical, sarcastic person myself, but Joey showed me what true happiness was like. If nothing else, I want to remember how joyful he was about everything. Everyone. I still have much to learn from him. His very spirit will change my soul from this day forward, and has since the day I met him.

I'm keeping this painting.

I'd still like for you to come see it this Saturday, though. Not just to appreciate art, but as support for me and an honor to Joey. He was, and is, my hero. If I can achieve even a fraction of the joy he had for life, my entire existence will be a success.

Adrift . 30x24 inches . 2011





1. natural lighting
2. artificial lighting
3. combined UV and artificial lighting
4. UV lighting alone
5. no light

Ingredients: acrylic, beach sand, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, water & light on canvas.

Making my way through the month. It's strange to have such awesome things and such sad things happen simultaneously. It's not a month I care to repeat, but I recognize that with success comes increased activity. It's hard to schedule the sad, unforeseen circumstances in. As I get older, I'm learning to assume they'll sneak up occasionally.

I'm starting to feel an overall calm in my life, mostly because the alternative is scary. I have no choice but to surrender my anxieties and allow life to happen since I can't control all aspects of it anyway. I want to enjoy my show. I want to calmly enjoy my trip to Japan. I want to remain lucid and awake, observing and experiencing everything. I want each step to be purposeful.

I'm working on it.

Adrift will be on display at my show this coming Saturday (!) March 26th, from 6-10pm.

If you'd like to reserve this painting before the show, contact me for details. *UPDATE* This painting is now sold!

Studio C
6448 Santa Monica Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90038


View Larger Map

Very much hope you can be there. :)



Two paintings left to unveil!

Doorway . 36x24 inches . 2011


1. natural light
2. artificial / interior light
3. artificial and uv lighting combined
4. uv lighting
5. no light

Ingredients: acrylic, beach sand, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

It's time to pass through. No matter how much I might want things to stay the same, I have to move forward. I have to take the next step. I believe events in my life have been purposeful. I don't know what's waiting for me on the other side, but it's time to find out.

The only thing I have control over are my choices. Everything else is unknown. Hopefully, one day, I can look back through this threshold and know that the rest of my life began with that one step, and feel solace that I took it. At the moment, it's a leap of faith.

Doorway will be shown on March 26th, 2011 in Hollywood for one night only. If you're interested in this piece and would like to reserve or purchase it before the show, email me. *UPDATE: This painting is now sold.*


Singularity . 30x40 inches . 2011





1. natural light
2. artificial/interior light
3. artificial and UV light
4. UV light
5. no light

Ingredients: acrylic, beach sand, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

I guess I feel awkward even commenting on this piece. I don't have anything to say that would properly capture what went into it. It was an act of meditation and study. 

There's so much going on in my life right now. I feel like this moment in time is floating by at a different rate of speed than most moments. I feel trapped in the space, watching everything pass in slow motion, not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and not remembering what life was like before I got here. Such a huge, important chapter of my life is closing, and although I can't stop it, I don't want to meet it. I feel like if I refuse to acknowledge reality, it won't play out. It's an incorrect and unhelpful mindset, and I'm swimming in it. I never, ever agree when I see others dragging their heels through life refusing to make choices and meet their destiny. Everything is rushing toward an inevitability and I can't stop it and I feel like I'm going to burst or disappear. 

It's strange that life can be so awesome and so sad simultaneously. I usually embrace change, but right now I'd rather certain things stayed as they were, forever. Forward motion, in this case, means the end of part of my lifestory that I don't want to let go of. I see aspects of my life approaching a sort of event-horizon, and I am afraid. I'm not sure I can handle it. I don't really have a choice. 

I'm standing in front of a doorway. At the moment, it feels impossible to see through to the other side.


Singularity will be shown on March 26th, 2011 at Studio C in Los Angeles. Definitely a piece you'll want to see in person. If you're interested in purchasing this piece before the show, email me for details. *UPDATE: This painting is now sold.*




Paradigm Shift . 30x40 inches . 2011

 1. natural light
2. artificial / interior light
3. interior and uv light
4. uv light only
5. no light (glow in the dark)

Ingredients: Acrylic, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

[It's hard to tell from the pictures, but the painting changes color from red/orange to blue, green, gold, and violet when the angle is right.] :)

I always find it amazing how quickly the sun sets after it initially touches the horizon. It seems to take forever to reach that point and then within minutes, disappears like it's falling off the edge of the earth. It's a special few minutes. You're almost afraid to look away, lest you blink and find the sun already gone. When it touches the horizon, the shape of the sun becomes liquid, melting the very sea or land it wants to hide behind. After just a few short moments, it's gone and everything becomes darker. Though always there, you suddenly notice the starlight.

That moment, from when the sun first meets the boundary between light and dark, and when it finally disappears, has always felt spiritual to me. Rarely do we get to experience the cyclical workings of the universe on such a profound, personal level.

Paradigm Shift is the latest painting in my Studio C Collection, to be shown on March 26th. If you'd like to purchase or reserve this painting before the show, contact me. :)

The Journey . 36x24 . 2011





1. natural light
2. interior light
3. interior & UV light combined
4. UV light alone
5. No light (glowing in the darkness)

Ingredients: Acrylic, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.


I started this in November. It took me that long to complete. My plan was to work on more complex designs first so that I had ample time to finish them before the show. Good call.

This piece has had a lot of different themes, even for me. It began as an observation of water droplets on glass, quickly becoming various concepts in my mind, each variation less connected to the original. 


(colors change depending on the viewing angle)

I've been told that it looks like cobblestone. My husband suggested it looked like an Earthship wall. To me, it even started to resemble biological cells. In essence, it's all of these things, or none of them, depending on what you see it as yourself. I don't want to decide for you. It's not up to me.

We each see what we want, and travel a different path on our individual walks toward discovery. It's a very personal thing. Ultimately it doesn't matter what any given painting means to you, since it's about the journey with which you arrive at your unique interpretation anyway. Your life, your experiences, form the eyes with which you see the world now. The process is the beautiful part. It's not the art itself, but The Journey you took to arrive here. We're each on the path, walking at our own pace, learning as we go, discovering ourselves. 

I feel like that's kind of the whole reason I make art to begin with. It's an exploration of myself.

The Journey is the latest piece in my Studio C Collection, to be shown on March 26th in Los Angeles.

Update: Painting sold! :) But, it will still be at my show, so make sure to see it!


Atemporal . 48x24 inches . 2011






1. natural lighting
2. artificial (interior) lighting
3. combined uv and interior lighting
4. uv lighting only
5. no light (glow in the dark)


Ingredients: acrylic, sand, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

a·tem·po·ral
[ey-tem-per-uhl, ey-tem-pruhl]


      –adjective

      free from limitations of time.


Without time. Outside of time.

I've often made paintings that represent both old and new, existing as both ancient and futuristic in style. My interest in this is part due to a fascination with ancient technology, but also an element of imagination as to what that means. Ancient as we know it? Ancient for another time? Is it possible that "ancient technology" is entirely different than we think it to be? We really only have theories. But more than this, my "ancient/futuristic" paintings don't necessarily pertain to any timeline we've ever been a part of. I'm not sure it's representing us, per se. Maybe it's our distant future. Maybe the "ancient" I speak of is really us, as we exist right now in this moment. At some point in the future, our present is someone else's past. Maybe my imagination is simply dreaming up a timeline that doesn't exist. Maybe.

I like to think this piece was inspired by the stone-working of a temple somewhere, maybe not here, maybe not in the past. Maybe it hasn't been made yet. ;o)

This is a sister painting to Garden, but although their basis is similar, the emotional feel of Atemporal is quite the opposite of an aged, dry, weathered look. This time I went for liquid. White. Almost metallic. Definitely something that needs to be observed in person as you walk around it. Colors change, and at times it seems almost made of mother-of-pearl and abalone shell.



Isn't that neat? :)

This piece is part of my brand new collection that will be displayed at my upcoming solo show on March 26th, 2011 in Los Angeles. Visit my website for information about the show. If you'd like to reserve the painting by purchasing it before the show, contact me for details.

UPDATE: This painting is now sold. Come see it at the show before it leaves for Oregon! :)

Garden . 24x48 inches . 2010






1. natural lighting
2. artificial (interior) lighting
3. combined uv and interior lighting
4. uv lighting only
5. no light (glow in the dark)


Ingredients: acrylic, sand, glass beads, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas.

An exercise in subtlety. Actually this was one of the most technically complicated paintings I've ever made. First it started with an idea. "You know what would be rad? A Japanese garden. In painting form."

Okay maybe it even sounded complicated at the time, but somehow I determined that I should do it. Even better, I actually used the technique on two paintings at the same time, the other of which I will show you soon. (That one's for my show.)

I'm an ideas person at heart. I know this because I'm often one to say, "I have an idea!" I'm talking Lucille Ball style here. I'm further used to watching a varied number of people brace themselves for hearing whatever my idea is, despite the fact that they sincerely want to support it and help me make my visions a reality. It's produced some of the most profound experiences of my life.

It's also been a lot of work. (Especially for those who have helped me. I generally work alone now, but years ago my "ideas" were implemented on grand scales for large art projects and community events that required significant amounts of money, time, team effort, and faith. I'll never tire of thanking Colin, Becky, Carla, Jyro, Chuck, Craig, and all our extra helpers during those years. It was a beautiful time.)

Anyway, back to this painting. I had no plan when I started. I had no concept about how one would even go about accomplishing this. I just drew my idea on canvas and started with what I thought "might" work. It took three and a half months of labor every single day. It was hard. At various points I thought I might have to scrap the whole thing. It's so heavy I could hardly lift it onto the wall at Gen Kai.

Gen Kai! Speaking of which, this is the newest installation and part of an ongoing series of work I'm creating for them. :)

I wanted to both recreate the look and feel of a real Japanese Dry Garden while also infusing the painting with my own personal touches that reflect my style. From far away it looks like a traditional dry garden and close up you're able to see subtle variances in color shine through the sand.





Stop by in person to see my growing collection at this incredible restaurant. Gen Kai has been around since 1983, and even suffered a fire last year that destroyed much of the restaurant. They rebuilt and are back better than ever. I'm honored to be a part of their ongoing history.


Gen Kai Japanese Restaurant
34143 Pacific Coast Hwy 
Dana PointCA 92629 
(949) 240-2004

Stardom . 48x30 inches . 2010







1. natural lighting
2. artificial (interior) lighting
3. combined uv and interior lighting
4. uv lighting only
5. no light (glow in the dark)

Ingredients: acrylic, sand, candle wax, a little red wine, crushed glass, phosphorescent pigments, varnish, water & light on canvas. 

 Ahh, purple. Thus begins my love affair with purple.

This truly looks nothing like my original sketch for it, and I'm okay with that. My sketches are usually just jumping off points, from which I create something that inevitably dives into chaos and unpredictability. I like to "guide" my paintings into whatever they're going to be, but I allow the process to play itself out. In many ways, I'm just along for the ride.

I didn't specifically intend for it to be so emotional. It just happened. I'm not quite sure if there's an emotional space in my mind trying to break free or if it's merely a happy accident. I knew it while painting though. Part of me was afraid to let you see it. I wasn't sure what you would think. I wasn't sure what I was saying with it.

Truthfully, it doesn't matter what I was thinking, because once the art is finished it's not up to me how people feel about it. I just make them. I'm working through it as I go. I try to be present and intuitive while working, but the creation itself is my expression. The rest is up to you.

What do you think this painting is about?

Some close ups:






This is the first of many pieces I'm creating for a solo show I'll be having in Hollywood, California on March 26th, 2011. I'll be giving more information about that over the next few months. I hope you can make it. It's going to be incredible. I'm very nervous and very excited. 

If you're interested in acquiring this painting before or after the show, please email me and we'll discuss specifics. :) *UPDATE: This painting is now sold.*

Sakura . 36x78 inches . 2010

The second of my Gen Kai series. This piece is done on three separate 24x36 inch canvases. Click each series to enlarge it.






1. natural lighting (near a sunny window)
2. artificial lighting (regular interior lighting)
3. combined uv and artificial lighting
4. uv lighting only (with a black light)
5. no light (glow in the dark)

I'm very proud of this one.

It's interesting that I began work on what I've been calling my "Japanese Fusion Paintings" the year before visiting Japan. We're specifically aiming to be in Japan during Sakura 2011, for all the cherry blossom festivities. Cherry blossoms are only peaking for about 2 weeks a year, so our timing involves a lot of hoping and estimating. Either way, I'm thrilled to experience them. They look like feathers or cotton candy or faery dust or something. I'm sure I'll want to paint more of them after seeing such fluffy pink magic in real life. In the meantime, I'll just have to dream about it.

This was not an easy painting to complete, and was entirely out of my comfort zone. Colin helped me a lot, and I jokingly referred to him as my "apprentice" because of the dirty work I put him through. I think he enjoyed it though, it's fun to get your hands all covered in modeling paste. Well, maybe not, but he was happy to help me. On many days, after working 12 hours on it, my hands simply wouldn't function anymore.

What's hard to see in these pictures is the way I made the blossoms to sparkle and glimmer as you walk past it through the room. I wanted it to be reminiscent of the way cherry blossoms flutter in the breeze.

I've been told that people eating in the dining room have been taking pictures of my art with their cell phones. Rad. :o)


Gen Kai Japanese Restaurant
34143 Pacific Coast Hwy 
Dana PointCA 92629 

(949) 240-2004

Shoji . 36x57 inches . 2010

The first of my Gen Kai series. :o) This piece is done on four separate 12x36 inch canvases.





1. natural lighting (near a sunny window)
2. artificial lighting (regular interior lighting)
3. combined uv and artificial lighting
4. uv lighting only (with a black light)
5. no light (glow in the dark)

Oh, Gen Kai. :o)

This would be my first white painting. I'd been wanting to do something all white for a long time.

Before the fire burned down the entire front room of the restaurant, there had been a shoji window on this exact wall for decades. The head sushi chef mentioned this to me when we were there to hang the art, but of course I remembered. It was my inspiration for making this piece. Now there are shoji windows on both sides of the lobby. :o) (I didn't get a picture of the one facing the outside.) Also, the lobby area tends to get a bit dark (and romantic) at night, so I wanted something to brighten it up. It kind of feels like an outdoor space now. Maybe that's because I adorned their wall with a gigantic moon.

I've been calling these my "Japanese Fusion paintings" although Colin reminds me that in all likelihood I will make more like them outside of this series.

I have one more to show you this week, and then a few others later on. Make sure to stop by Gen Kai in Dana Point to see them in person!

Gen Kai has really great lunch specials and it's super crowded on weekends. They even had a sake tasting last Friday that I desperately wish I could have attended. Very happy they're back. :o)



Gen Kai Japanese Restaurant
34143 Pacific Coast Hwy 
Dana PointCA 92629 

(949) 240-2004

Wayfinder . 18x24 . 2010






1. natural lighting (near a sunny window)
2. artificial lighting (regular interior lighting)
3. combined uv and artificial lighting
4. uv lighting only (with a black light)
5. no light (glow in the dark for hours!)

Made with: acrylic, sand, glass, phosphorescent pigments


This is the last new painting to introduce to you before my show tomorrow night at The Happening Gallery.

I dig this one. ;o)

It went through a few revisions as I fine-tuned it. Originally I'd wanted the piece to "show my work" somehow, to have visible sketch lines and pencil marks, but I couldn't make it work with all the texture. Well, actually, I think it works as I intended, it just looks different than I'd originally imagined. That's common for my art. It's an exciting, unpredictable process for me.

In person this piece is really something - the glass makes it sparkle and you can see all the interesting cracks and crevices of texture. Yet, somehow, it still seems shiny and new.

In certain lighting conditions it looks ancient. I love the dichotomy of old and new. I'm fascinated with ancient artifacts. At one point, they were new to whomever held them in their hands or gazed upon them from a distance. I imagine some of these paintings to come from the ancient times of future civilizations.

One thing I find sad in our current culture is how removed we are from the skies. Ancient people knew where all the stars were each night, and where they would move throughout the year. They navigated by the Heavens, confidently. We can't even seem to look up from our computer screens. If we did, the glaring lights of modern civilization blur out the stars anyway.

Who's really in the dark?

Lately, in the constant exploration to find myself, I've been acknowledging my desire to travel. It's always on my mind, I become obsessed with scheming up ways to make it happen. When presented with the personal, self-reflective question of "what would you most like to be doing right now?" -- my answer always involves travel. I think, eventually, I want to be part me, part Anthony Bourdain. An artsy Anthony Bourdain. I'm not quite sure what that means for my future, specifically, but I'm factoring the clear inclination into my life goals.

At the very least, it's teaching me something about myself.

Nalu . 12x36 inches . 2010

Nalu is the Hawaiian word for "wave."






1. natural lighting (near a sunny window)
2. artificial lighting (regular interior lighting)
3. combined uv and artificial lighting
4. uv lighting only (with a black light)
5. no light (glow in the dark for hours!)

Real beach sand covers the area beneath the waves. It's full of tiny pieces of rocks and shells, and colored a warm sandy hue that I've learned to associate with Hawaii. Which is not to say that that color is representative of all of Hawaii. The beaches there also have sand in shades of white, green, and black. Like MAGIC.

A number of people have asked if I'm ever going to paint Nami again, and I kept saying "probably not" even while creating this new painting. I wasn't being coy, I honestly didn't connect them in my mind. I mean, obviously they are similar, but to me, Nami was its own thing. A wave painting to be sure, but a unique spot in my mind reserved for something that simply didn't exist anymore. (Also- OMG dots.) I guess what I should have said is "Well, of course I'll be doing some wave paintings in the future! So pretty! So fun! Yay waves!!"

[And that's why artists rarely make sense.]

So, of course, I can't ever replace Nami, nor do I plan to, but I am enjoying an ongoing exploration of waves, Hawaiian, Japanese, and even just energy & sound waves within the universe.

Nalu will be on display at The Happening Gallery in Marina Del Rey (Los Angeles) from July 2nd to the 27th. An artists reception will be held on Saturday July 17th from 6-9pm. I'd love to see you and talk about this new painting in person!

Unforeseen . 16x20 . 2010


1. natural lighting (near a sunny window)
2. artificial lighting (regular interior lighting)
3. combined uv and artificial lighting
4. uv lighting only (with a black light)
5. no light (glow in the dark for hours!)

Inspired by sunsets seen along the Kona coast of the Big Island of Hawaii in January 2010. Heavy vog colored the skies in smokey hues of pink and orange. Vog from the Kilauea Volcano on the island has increased over the last 2 years. There's no telling how long it might last. Since volcanoes exist in geological time, even 10,000 years would make this phenomenon a short one.

It was one of the eeriest, most beautiful things I've experienced.

The sun would descend from a clear blue sky slowly into a foggy haze of warm colors, almost backlighting the thick layer of clouds. This would allow you to gaze directly at the sun, who's brightness diminished as it moved closer to the horizon. Even the horizon itself became blurred. The ocean reflected the colors of the sky, turning the sea to pink and orange.

Honestly, it felt like we were on Mars. Totally awesome.

This is my first full sized painting using a brand new technique of sunken lines instead of raised ones. :o)

Available in my Etsy shop.