I didn’t begin painting because I had discovered the beauty of solitude. I began painting because I was lonely.

For a long time, being alone didn’t feel peaceful or empowering. It felt like isolation. I had moved to a place where I had roots, but not the lifelong connections that many people around me shared. I was raising my children, working an unusual schedule, and trying to build a life while carrying most of its responsibilities on my own.

Painting gave me somewhere to put all of that.

At first, it was simply something that I could pour my soul into. It challenged me. It absorbed my attention. It gave me something that belonged entirely to me.

And slowly, my relationship with being alone began to change.

I would still call some of what I experience loneliness. But somewhere along the way, some of that loneliness evolved into solitude.

There is a difference.

Loneliness feels like something is missing. Solitude can feel like nothing needs to be added.

I think that transformation is visible in my work. Again and again, I’m drawn to quiet landscapes, solitary animals, distant mountains, water, dramatic skies, and small signs of life surrounded by enormous spaces.

I don’t look at those scenes and automatically see loneliness anymore.

Sometimes I see strength. Sometimes peace. Sometimes independence. And sometimes I still see loneliness — because that is part of being human too.

When I paint, I want to create more than a picture. I want to feel like an experience  – something that lets you imagine the cold air beneath the northern lights, the breeze moving through the trees, the sound of water, or what it might feel like to stand somewhere far away from the noise of everyday life.

My paintings don’t represent a journey that is finished. They’re part of one that is still happening.

Perhaps that is why I continue returning to these quiet places on canvas. They remind me that being alone can hold more than one truth: we can miss connection and still find peace; we can feel lonely and still feel strong; and we can create something beautiful in the middle of both.

That same curiosity about the world also found its way into my children’s books. As an author and illustrator, I create colorful adventures designed to encourage kids to explore nature, animals, science, and the world around them.

Creativity has always needed somewhere to go in my life. I’m grateful that I found painting as one of those places, but I also know that if I stopped painting tomorrow, it would come out somewhere else. I’d decorate something, rearrange a room, write a ridiculous song, cook something differently, or find some other way to make something that wasn’t there before. I don’t really think of art as something I do. It’s simply part of how I live.

Thank you for visiting my studio. I’m glad you’re here.