Nancy in studio

Watercoloring 2011

I am quiet, reclusive, contemplative and introspective. My inner world is rich in silent rumination with reverence to the One Great Mystery that causes the blood to flow through my veins. My outer world, beautiful, though tumultuous and traumatic at times, provides the trove from which I draw. I muse on how I feel inside, what it would look like in visual form, and an image presents itself to me…

I have always loved to make things – I am happiest when my hands are busy creating. As a child, I would immerse myself in making daisy chains, paper dolls, woven paper baskets, mud pies, doll clothes, troll houses, jello sculptures, cinnamon rolls, fresh flower bouquets – even a miniature wooden totem pole. I would often wander about the house with pencil & paper in hand, pondering the question aloud “hmmm…what shall I draw?”  Crayons & paper were my most readily accessible mediums, so drawing was how I usually chose to expend my  creative energy. My biggest dream was to own my very own brand new box of 64 Crayola crayons complete with the sharpener on the back.

In memory of Barbara

In memory of Barbara

I discovered this picture (drawn on the back of a game of tic tac toe) in a box of drawings my mother saved from my childhood. My best friend, Barbara, died when we were both seven. Realizing that I would never see her again, and desiring to express my love, I drew this picture in remembrance of her. A tremendous catharsis transpired while I was drawing it and I discovered that I could express my heartfelt thoughts in a picture when I felt too vulnerable and sensitive to express in them words.

      Many years into my career as an artist, I realized that this image was consistent with the themes I created as an adult.


You Have Your Wings Now

From my perspective, painting is therapeutic- for me as well as for the viewer. I express in painting what I cannot convey in words. Others are affected and moved in ways I never imagined possible.

The wonderful song, ART,  by Tanya Davis, illustrated by Andrea Dorfman, epitomizes my innermost thoughts as a young adult considering whether or not making art would be a valid contribution to the world. I questioned if my time spent drawing pictures would be the most beneficial way to utilize my days and hours in this precious, finite life. To my delight and awe, I now recognize that this work I chose to do brings immense comfort and affirmation to those whose lives it touches.

As an adult, I encountered the dilemma of having to choose a medium of focus so that I could develop a career. Moving constantly, and living in tiny abodes and homes on wheels, necessitated that I choose a form of art portable enough to carry & move often. I chose drawing over another love – sculpting.

When I began my painting career, I determined that I would not paint what was faddish, but that which was meaningful to me. I shared it with the world in the form of six note card designs and hoped that others would like them. They did, so I continued.

Though my art includes a variety of themes and styles- some whimsical, some decorative, some purely for design – the work that remains closest to my heart and that which I consider my “true” art, and one of my life’s purposes, is my Journeys Line – inspired by thoughts and emotion borne out of personal life experience, dreams and visions- reflections of my inner spirit.

morning harvest

morning harvest

I have never been  a sketcher, or one compelled to draw each day, in fact, I occasionally go for years without picking up a pen or brush. During those times, I often remind myself… to everything there is a  season.  For the last decade, I have found my joy & solace in creating a beautiful backyard garden sanctuary. Communing with the plants & flowers, the squirrels, humming birds, spiders, bees, dragonflies, worms and all the other little creatures of the earth, I find necessarily rewarding. The garden is good work, and the harvest is great.


St. Francis Hill in May

In your light I learn how to love.
In your beauty, how to make poems.

You dance inside my chest,
where no one sees you,

but sometimes I do,
and that sight becomes this art…