About The Artist
I was born in San Diego, California into loving arms. I grew up with three wonderful siblings, and a simple joy filled home. Art has always been apart of my life, through art classes in grade school, that turned me into a hobbyist who drew and painted during quiet, un-interrupted moments to painting parties with my Grandmother as a young adult. As a creative, I owned a professional photography business for 10 years photographing births and newborns in a small town in Nebraska. In 2017 I opened a private editing company, and began professionally editing galleries for wedding photographers all over the world.
My husband and I, along with our three daughters currently reside in San Diego, California. Who I am today is largely shaped by those first five years as a young mother. I paint out of my home studio with my three daughters and their joy filled littles voices filling the air, soft music playing, and sunshine pouring in. I thrive on sunshine, a calm home, family adventures, soft neutral tones, flowers, nature, ice water with lemon, quiet time, day dreaming and finding joy in the smallest of moments.
I hope my paintings bring you joy, peace, a sense of calm, and hope.
“Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope.” -Elizabeth Gilbert
In 2010 my husband and I birthed our first beautiful daughter named Carsen. It was both the most beautiful and traumatic experience of our lives. Our sweet baby was born blind, deaf, and severely disabled despite my completely normal pregnancy. The day she was born was the day our lives changed forever. Our baby girl went on to live 5 more wonderfully chaotic years filled with Doctors appointments, hospitalizations, surgeries, lots of pain, and some gifts of her contagious giggles mixed in between. During those five years we also grew our family with three more marvelous girls and lived our lives day by day, and sometimes hour by hour holding onto only hope. A month after Carsen turned five, she passed away in her sleep from complications of her disabilities. I was overcome with both sorrow, and relief. She left us too soon. She left her mother to bury her baby, it wasn’t fair. But, she was free from the pain and ailments that haunted her and for that I was thankful.
Grief is hard, and when you have three little babies who look to you for joy, love, support, and life, you must keep going. As a mother of three other beautiful daughters there was not time to feel sorry for us. Those five years were incredibly wonderful, and taught me to be the mother I am today. Strength, bravery, persistence, grace. Those words play in my mind as I think about the type of mother I was shaped into because of Carsen. And when I look back, I wish I could tell that young mother that everything will be okay. There is light. There will be love, and joy, and peace again.
Today I paint to communicate the rawness and simplicity of having hope. Through my experiences as a mother, there is so much beauty and pain that take place at the same time. When Carsen passed away, I had to give myself permission to keep going. I had to remind myself that even though there is so much sorrow there is also so much to look forward to. If you’re grieving a loss, whether that be the loss of a person, a past life, or something else, I want you to assure you that you will find your way to a better place. My work is intuitive, a feeling. It pours out of me unscripted and unplanned. When I am painting I play soft music, and find myself in a peaceful meditative state. What ends up on paper is soft and gentle. My gentle, delicate paintings are your permission to look forward, and move on. They communicate bravery, a deep breathe, a soft smile. They’re a glimmer of light. A reminder to keep going. They’re your peaceful glimmer of the future to remind you there is still so much beauty waiting for you. I paint to say, “You’ll get through this, you’re going to be okay.”