Golden Koi

My Golden Koi. Transparent gel/neon paint ratio 2:1 to create a pure depth. 40x30 in size can fit pretty much any wall .

Love what I do

I am loving painting him. With all of my heart. When I truly fall in love with a piece it manifests on the canvas. I’ve been on a roll with my writing as well. Not only am I writing my memoir, (which is in conjunction with my Fire Series) I also started a fiction novel, and a children’s book.

Varnishing one of my girls

Varnish. Then off to her new home. She’s one of my favorites

Excerpt from my book “WRECKED”

To not have your suffering recognized is a form of violent neglect.  Until recently I couldn’t handle silence.  I had to have some sort of white noise. To drown out those thoughts that squiggle to the surface. 

   But now I crave silence. The neglected memories no longer lay dormant in the back cages of my mind. I’ve freed them. But they still hang around. Laying their permeable surfaces open to new memories. In a interfusion of past and present. Creating something new in me. Like the blend of my art and my writing. Writing preexisted my art, but again I neglected it for a solid twenty years.  Like my hometown, I loved it-but I left it. My friends, I loved them-but I left them. My writing-I loved them, but I left them. My house, the land-I loved it but I left it.  Self protection I suppose. To leave those things, and people that were bound not by their will to my  virulent past; was not only self-protection but temporary salvation.  

  My painting of the woman floating in the water brings its exquisite silence almost tangible upon viewing. Part of me floats in the water with her. Hauntingly still. Waiting. 

After the epic battle of my past and my present, the old me and the new have found a way to coexist. I had no idea that there was room. If there’s room, then there’s room for me to be a mother, wife, writer, artist, sister and often daughter.  

All these years the guilt I carried like an albatross carries little footing. It barely holds on as I kick it off my foot every morning.  “WRECKED”©️

This painting was the one that threw me into the ER with a TIA, my bad though. I was sealing the gold leaf with bare hands. Had it ALL over my hands for hours. I was afraid to touch it, but TODAY I doubled gloved it up and finalized the fireplace. Side note my memoir should be done by Christmas then on to find a publisher.

Started work on the big 4 ft horse head. Feels really good to work, it’s always hard during summer.

Sketching in Sahara with paint/charcoal. When I was little my parents were all set to buy a retired Race Horse named Sahara Shizad. We had a coral for her. She wasn’t white but I’m going to paint her white. They didn’t end up buying her. I was so sad. I always wondered where she went, if she was still alive. I would have taken such good care of her. The corralmay be burned downthis past summer. But I can sure paint my memories •WRECKED• series 

Excuse the glare, tons of wet paint .Part 3 in my Fire Series.Angled shots to show the texture. Almost finished with this one. Back story on the blog a few posts ago 

I’m seeing red. Don’t think you’ll see my face again. Don’t have much time for sympathy. ‘cause it never happened to me. -lyrics by Unwritten Law....

It was a red day for me. So this big boy is HEAVY. It’s an old one which has a ton of pumice stone medium mixed in. Probably weighs 10lbs. Not sure what I’ll do next. It’ll come to me-always does. 

Boughthigh fluid neon & bright hues. Started the revamp of this old big boy 60x48. The family is nagging me to go to eat so I’ll finish soon

Did a quick sketch yesterday on an old highly textured piece of the start of my Samurai.I know it’s hard to see what will be but I can see it 

Stuck her in front of my treadmill to figure out the next step. I’m tempted to leave her as is. I love the rawness and subtle muscle. It’s extremely tricky To know WHEN to stop as an artist. I’ve ruined pieces before. My best advice to my daughters and budding artists is put it somewhere you can contemplate and think about it. Natural light is best. Sometimes it can be months before it hits you. Work on other ones while you wait the “click”. #ballerina #ballet #tutu #painting #figurepainting #figuredrawing #femaleform #art #interiordesign #losangeles #newyork #gallery#femaleartist #dancer

I know I keep posting the progress on this. Here’s some alternativeprospective shots showing depth/detail #abstractart #abstractpainting #figurativeart #portrait #art #painting #artistsoninstagram #california #femaleartist #losangeles #newyork #brushwork #surrealism #arts #artgallery #gallery #forestfires #series #interiordesign #modernart #contemporaryart

Thought the best thing for me was to battle this for the new year. It’s the fireplace from my childhood home that burnt down. We lost all three homes in that fire. Painting this was hard for me. I hit so many emotions. Multiple layers of paint including some flames with were muted later. In the end I feel ready. Ready to let go of my past, but keep it close as it should. My short story is posted with this on my blog/website. If you’re going through grief or rough patches I would love to help you. God saved me. He gave me art as a life raft. Without Him and without it I would be lost. Like I said shoot me and email or DM if you need some encouragement or just an ear or guidance into painting! Happy New Year friends. 

After the pics is my short back story:  

Sometimes I still feel the loss in the pit of my stomach. Like I was punched. There’s no more going back, or visiting the walls of my childhood. The tangible evidence that served as my adolescent sanctuary is gone for good. It’s so hard to wrap my head around. I visit my house, my old life in my dreams. Touching the walls, walking through it’s long halls. I like to think of my house as alive. Like it’s trapped in the Upside Down as my brother in law said. Like it’s waiting for me and my siblings in another place. Waiting for us to come home.

When I was a young  18, married a Marine who was my brother’s friend in Boot Camp at USMC, San Diego. We married in the little  church next to my father’s house in Old Shasta. Amazingly the church survived the Carr Fire. The firefighters used the water from my father’s pool to save the church. I’m happy they did. Even though that marriage was doomed and didn’t endure, I still like the feeling that something from my past still stands.

  I’m going to give a brief summation on our father without defaming his name. I don’t want to do that. We we’re raised by both our mom and dad. Our dad worked as a respiratory therapist at Redding Medical and Redbluff Hospitals. He was barely at home. When he was he was at arms length, distant, and often played mind games. I didn’t realize what a “real” father was supposed to be like until my second husband Dean filled his role remarkably with our four daughters.

So back to when I was 18. My husband and I moved down to San Clemente because he was stationed at Pendleton.  Then I h

  My ex husband and I came home to visit after visiting his home in Denver. I was so homesick on that trip. My sister had given birth to my second niece Danika, and I missed it. I felt such longing to retrieve my hometown, my friends, just to hike in the hilly woods behind my house. It was nighttime When we drove over the mountains from Reno and as we came over the mountain and saw Redding’s lights shining like a beacon of hope, my heart sunk. Could I go back? I felt like it was all right there in front of me, but I couldn’t go back. That single memory will live with me forever.

  I had to come stay with my parents during my first year of marriage to my ex because he went on a six month deployment overseas. I didn’t know that going back home would make me feel so displaced. Like I was in limbo. My dad and I had an altercation during this time over his same mind games. For the first time I stood up to him. I had realized after being away how abusive he was. My mom has to step between us as my dad came at me with fury in his eyes. Later that night my mom came to my room and said she was finally ready to leave him. All her kids were grown and she couldn’t live like this anymore.  So, we packed up a small uhaul and I helped her leave my dad. She left him without telling him. I left a note for him. My mom moved in with me in San Clemente whole my ex was overseas. I kept in contact with my dad until the following year. He came down but I never felt comfortable, and he was still controlling. I talked to my sister and I decided to cut ties with my father. My brother and sister did one a year later and the other followed after many altercations.

Speeding forward, my family confronted me about my marriage to my first was abusive. I had married someone like my father. With help from my mom I loved away to Seal Beach to be near my mom and her new husband.

My sister wanted me to move back to Redding, but how could I go? I had a failed marriage. I missed my home, my house. Our father stilled lives there. With his new family. He married a woman just a few years older than my sister. She had kids. I tried not to have resentment because we all cut ties. We left. But I did.

When the fire started I kept in constant contact with my sister about where it was. I remember it being in French Gulch. I expressed to my sis what if it comes to Old Shasta? No one thought it would. My sweet Old Shasta. I adored growing up there. Walking to J’s Market to buy Jolly Rancher Sticks with my brother. Playing “army” with my over zealous brother near the cemetery about Shasta Elementary. Picking berries for pancakes along Middle Creek for Saturday morning pancakes. Hanging out stockings on the fireplace while laying under the Christmas tree. That fireplace was my favorite place.

My brother in law is a Shasta County Sheriff. He sent me and my sis photos of the structure after the fire. What will always haunt me is seeing the fireplace still there standing among the rubble. Like it was saying “I’m still here”. When my family and I came up on Thanksgiving my sister and brother in law took us to see the properties. Well we went to see all three houses we lived in that all three burned down. The last one was the one we lived in the longest. All of the rubble had been cleared. It looked son different from what I remembered. We took a fireplace brick. I look at it everyday.

I decided to paint a new expressionist figurative series that displays embodiment with fire in the background. With the fire I feel like I can let go now. I can move on from my past. It also brought me home. I rarely visited up there anymore, but after the fire hit; there’s a longing I cannot shake. I plan to visit Redding often. It’s in my blood.

My new Art pieces are under review from New York, LA, London, and Santa Monica. I’m hoping I can bring some light to my sweet town. I know it’s not really a “town” but a city now. I like to think of it as a town. It’s more dear to me.

So this is my short story of my love for my town rekindled. Reborn from the ashes.

My camera phone is having trouble catching the heated tones on this. Almost finished with 1st in my Fire series

Shades of Water exhibition

The two pieces will be at the Mezz Gallery in the Montalban Theater in Hollywood from 11/16-1/31. I will be at the opening reception for the group show Friday the 16th 6pm

“Last Man” 40x30, acrylic $3200

 “Impermanent” 48x48, acrylic  heavy texture cherry blossom $3800

Started painting her. I’m using my daughter and old pics of me to blend together  “I see Fire” 40x30 #figureskating #figurativeabstraction #painting #art #modernart #gallery #paintings #losangeles #newyork #interiordesign #artcollector

48x48 abstract Portraiture Done

I’m varnishing the rework of my abstract portrait/koi piece. This took a long time to get that dimension. It’s one of my favorites now. I switched from Gamvar varnish to Golden UVF, this one needs solid UV protectant. 

Saturday long haul

worked three today. Two just dimension add ins and work on one of the ballerinas

More progress on the fireplace from my childhood home. I don’t understand how some, close to me...feel awkward or reserved about me painting this after it burnt down. It’s the healthiest thing a person can do and I wouldn’t be painting it if I didn’t want to talk or share my story. It’s good for me. No one should ever bottle any thing that hurts. Life isn’t rainbows and lollipops. Feel free to reach out to me if your grieving. For back story visit my blog on m