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We are intrinsically linked to the landscape at an elemental level. The carbon in a leaf, in our DNA, and in an ancient star is the same. This connection is felt most profoundly in the experience of the natural world—light and air, shadows, textures, colors, and even scent—shaping us in ways we often overlook. This idea propels much of my work.
Grand vistas and bucolic scenes are not the only place to find beauty in the landscape.It can also emerge in the scars left by conflict and contamination. These marks carry the promise of hope. A painting may begin with images of splendor, decay, or both—creating a tension, an exploration of paradox. Though the viewer may not always recognize its origins, I hope the paintings are as restorative for them as the act of creating them is for me. The imagery always recalls a place and a story.
Any material that can be applied to a surface is fair game, though my paintings are primarily acrylic. Like both a builder and an archaeologist, I layer the images that speak to an idea, then deconstruct through scraping, sanding, and the use of solvents. Hidden layers appear, while glazes unify the surface.
As a coal miner’s daughter, I have often focused on the coal fields of central Pennsylvania—painting abandoned mines, acid drainage, and mountaintop removal. I have also turned to melting ice caps, fire-ravaged landscapes, and storm-swept towns, searching for signs of renewal amid destruction.
Nature’s steadfast magnificence, even in ruin, teeters on a precipice. That thought is embedded in every beginning.
Grand vistas and bucolic scenes are not the only place to find beauty in the landscape.It can also emerge in the scars left by conflict and contamination. These marks carry the promise of hope. A painting may begin with images of splendor, decay, or both—creating a tension, an exploration of paradox. Though the viewer may not always recognize its origins, I hope the paintings are as restorative for them as the act of creating them is for me. The imagery always recalls a place and a story.
Any material that can be applied to a surface is fair game, though my paintings are primarily acrylic. Like both a builder and an archaeologist, I layer the images that speak to an idea, then deconstruct through scraping, sanding, and the use of solvents. Hidden layers appear, while glazes unify the surface.
As a coal miner’s daughter, I have often focused on the coal fields of central Pennsylvania—painting abandoned mines, acid drainage, and mountaintop removal. I have also turned to melting ice caps, fire-ravaged landscapes, and storm-swept towns, searching for signs of renewal amid destruction.
Nature’s steadfast magnificence, even in ruin, teeters on a precipice. That thought is embedded in every beginning.
