Back in my Sarasota studio, I created on a group of paintings that each stand on their own, yet feel quietly connected. They’re all 30 by 30 inches and share a palette of soft pinks, sage greens, muted blues, and grounding browns. These colors have been with me for a while now; they remind me of warm sand, sea breezes, and the calm that comes from being close to nature.
Each painting holds its subject inside a sort of floating bubble, an enclosed space where the forms can unfold on their own. It wasn’t something I planned from the start—it simply showed up as I worked, almost like each piece needed its own small world to grow in.
Beachball carries a circular motion that calls up memories of rolling shapes in the sand. It’s light and gentle, almost like it’s drifting.
From the Sea reflects that moment of bending down to pick something up along the shoreline—bits of seaweed, smooth stones, small things that feel like tiny gifts from the tide.
Leaves turns toward the forest instead, pulling in the many shapes and silhouettes of foliage. It holds the quiet rhythm of walking under trees.
Sponge and Coral dips underwater, gathering soft structures from the reef—rounded, porous, and full of texture.
While each piece tells its own story, they’re held together by their shared tones and grounded energy. They speak to the different places where nature leaves its mark: the beach, the sea, the forest, and the quiet life under the waves. Working on them felt like moving through those spaces with a slow, steady breath.