I sold my first artwork at 5 years old, although I suppose selling rocks painted with nail polish at a roadside stand might not deserve a spot on my resume.  Nevertheless, I was ecstatic that someone valued my art,  and I continued creating avidly into my teen years.

As I entered adulthood, I left much of my art behind. Some of it was the natural evolution that comes with raising a family, but I also was part of a subculture and that specifically devalued my creativity. Almost twenty years later,  from a place of profound ache, I began to return to various art forms to find my voice. I took solace in music, channeling its inspiration into doodles of buoying quotes and lyrics. Doodles evolved into drawings, and then developed into paintings. As I continued to create, my art led the way to jailbreak, granting me healing and a profound sense of liberation from much of my pain. I began to see the value in my art as an increasing number of people connected with it.

I went full time with my art in October 2021. Anyone who knows life in rural Idaho knows that this was crazy (and yes, I have done plenty of side jobs to make ends meet).  What followed was a steep learning curve as I attempted to get my work in front of a larger audience. I applied to national and international galleries, juried shows, and regional opportunities for solo exhibits.  It was exciting to sell one of my biggest paintings through a New York gallery, to be represented by a Toronto gallery, and to have my work in a Paris exhibition. However, through those experiences I learned that what I was really after was not a LARGER audience, but rather, the RIGHT audience. I have learned that art is all about connection for me.

Surprisingly enough, I have found that the right audience happens to be in my tiny hometown, because it allows me to connect through art every day. I am passionate about helping kids keep their creative spirit alive, and I love finding ways I can facilitate and nurture the art that already lives within them. This is less likely to be accomplished through distinguished gallery exhibits, but much more likely to thrive with a few pieces of sidewalk chalk and someone willing to plop down cross-legged with a 9-year-old.