I am an artist and former visual arts educator who recently moved to the North Woods of Maine full-time after 36 years of teaching in New Jersey.  I earned my undergraduate degree in art from Yale University and did graduate work in painting at the Maryland Institute, College of Art. While making mixed-media sculptures and paintings, I am continually discovering new approaches to fuel and shape my art —most recently these include forays into scenic design, puppetry, and muraling on the shed doors of my rural home.  In the months ahead, I look forward to joining the vibrant community of local Maine makers sharing work in Artist Markets and craft fairs.

My artmaking is fueled by the practice of yoga and walking, moving through landscapes, both internal and external — landscapes remembered, repaired, and imagined.  I gather motifs from microscopic worlds, anatomical drawings, vintage diagrams, from images that jump off the pages of the media I consume and from my dream world. But, most of what inspires me comes directly from the natural world and the time I spend in it. While I appreciate a magnificent vista (and often hike long hours to reach one), I’m not a traditional landscape painter who tries to capture that view.  My perspective tends to be more focused on small moments, instances of form, pattern and texture, where I find wonder in the seemingly mundane.  On a given day I might sketch the root system of a tree, photograph the track of a mussel in the mucky lake bottom, harvest intricate seed pods or a piece of wood riddled with insect tunnels. I return from rambles near my home in the North Woods of Maine with sticks in my hands and my pockets full of rocks. Even on long treks on the Appalachian Trail where pack weight is critical, the magpie in me prevails. This collaboration with nature sometimes manifests in a sculptural assemblage, marrying organic treasures with others culled from flea markets to suggest a new narrative. Other two-dimensional mixed media creations translate the birdsong, cairns, flowers, and bones observed on these daily walks into a private taxonomy of motifs, building a personal mythology.  At its core, the creating is a physical way for me to remedy and make sense and order out of living, to respond to constant change, to heal all that needs attention, including myself. This is my antidote to the news, the embodiment of enduring hopefulness, an opportunity ‘maybe even to float a little above this difficult world.’ (Mary Oliver). My process taps equal parts thoughtful planning, playful intuition with materials, and trust in magic.