About Me!

I am an experimental, artistic dabbler working in every media I can get my hands on! This includes handmade paper, handmade books (often using my handmade paper!), jewelry/silver, block printing, painting, mixed media art, altered arts, and more. I really do enjoy my watercolor and ink, and that is probably my favorite media.

I am one of the co-owners, admins, and board members of Atcsforall.com. I am also a board member of Illustratedatcs.com and the editor of ArtTrader Magazine (www.arttradermag.com). We have recently started a number of workshops, and I am one of four instructors running the Whimsy Art Workshop.

Here is my artistic statement:

She walks, the gentle wind rippling her hair and the sun peeking through the trees in patches of light on her skin. As she makes her way down the forest path, she passes many of her dear friends--mayflowers, willows, jack-in-the-pulpit, sassafras trees, and moss covered stones. The wood abruptly ends, and she steps out onto a hill overlooking a valley below.

"You've asked me for my artistic statement. I must say, I am not sure how to respond. So I'll speak to you about these lands and perhaps an answer will emerge."

She raises a hand and gestures to the valley below. A grayish haze, the smoke from twenty different factories, traffic jams, and power plants, blocks much of the view. Great billows of smoke and grit emerge from soiled smokestacks.

"My kind define 'progress' and 'development' in only one sense--the creation and sale of goods and services and the amassing of wealth. These are the means through which nature is tamed and exploited to produce oil, plastics, steel, and above all--profits. Humans judge how well we are progressing by measures like economic growth, profit, and the gross national product. They seem very empty measures to me, in light of everything else."

She motions to the forest behind her.

"Many of my kind would see this wood as 'undeveloped' and would seek it only to see how they might profit from it. Ore from the ground, wood from the forest, grains from the field, meat from the animals--all of the earth's gifts selfishly squandered away. Or, worse, they would turn it into a strip mall--selling the land, and all its inhabitants--to the highest bidder. Ever-sprawling suburbia. Hundreds of thousands of acres of wild lands and habitats are re-appropriated each year for banks, houses with white picket fences, fast food restaurants. What nature is left in those areas is carefully controlled and harnessed. Humanity loves their bug sprays, perfectly fertilized lawns, and picturesque invasive plant species."

A river meanders through the valley and into the city below. Its sickly, opaque, bluish hue speaks for itself.

"Ah, the river. My people believe, foolishly, that they can use its waters to wash away that which they want to be rid of. But its not so simple. The river was home to many--plants, frogs, fish, insects--all are now dead."

"Most these days are clueless. Dam the rivers, poison the waters, crank up the A.C. They refuse to recognize the warning signs--climate change, thousands of miles of dead waters in the oceans, melting ice caps, endangered species--ignorant and refusing to care, they continue their exploitation and consumption."

She leans on a nearby oak to steady herself. Tears form in her eyes.

"Its like a terrible wave. It never seems to end, it only destroys and consumes, despite the best efforts of many who dare to stand in its path. I fear for the future of our wild lands, for the billions of lives on this planet that aren't human. What will happen to those trees, animals, insects, plants, and birds as the suburbs expand, the forests continue to be cut, and the human population continues to skyrocket? Although I am young, I have already witnessed some of what is to come."

She sits down, the thought of so much destruction too much to bear.

"And with that, you ask me why I paint trees? The answer should be obvious. I paint trees as a statement. If my fights for the real trees should fail, one way or another, I fill the world with them, or at least, their memory. Because they represent nature, in all her glory, and in all her pain. Why there are no humans in my work, you ask? There are already too many of them in the world. And yet, as pessimistic as I may sound, I do hope for a better place. This is why I am drawn to the world of fantasy, of whimsy, of that which is beautiful and vibrant. I could speak at length on these subjects, but I have already said too much."

She begins walking back into the forest.

"Someday, perhaps you'll understand my art, and through my art, my hopes and dreams. My desire to protect and preserve above all else. I hope that my paintings will touch you and you will walk by my side to fight for those billions of lives who have no voice to speak for themselves."