Q: What's the first piece of art you ever made that you were truly proud of?
A: To answer this question, I have to go all the way back to one of my earliest art memories. In second grade, my teacher handed out a coloring page of an owl. Instead of simply coloring it in, I used my lefty green safety scissors to shave curls off a brown crayon and glued the wax shavings onto the owl’s body to create feathers. I was pretty proud of the results! I suspect my teacher was less impressed with the giant mess of brown crayon curls scattered around my desk.
Q: Do you have any rituals or habits that get you into a creative flow? (music, snacks, a lucky object?)
I have two modes that reliably get me into a creative flow at the easel.
First is participating in plein air events. During those weeks, my entire job is simply to look for inspiration and paint from sunup to sundown. Everything nonessential is set aside ahead of time — clothes packed, meals planned, painting supplies ready to go. That freedom from everyday decision-making opens up space for me to really see and respond to my environment. I often paint with earbuds in, listening to music or audiobooks while I work.
The second is returning to my travels in the studio. While I’m painting on location, I’m already thinking about which subjects might grow into larger studio paintings later on. Most of my studio work happens during the winter months when I’m home more. It's like I get to revisit my travels all over again!
The painting Buoyancy is a perfect example of this plein air to studio evolution. It grew out of an earlier plein air piece of the tall ship Elissa that I painted in May 2024. I thought about that subject for months before returning to it in a more ambitious studio piece. Both paintings were challenging, rewarding, and ultimately received meaningful recognition and awards.
Q: If you could have dinner with any artist (living or dead), who would it be and what would you ask them?
I’ve actually thought about this question a lot, and honestly, I don’t think I’d want dinner with an artist nearly as much as I’d want to be a fly on the wall while they painted. Imagine quietly observing John Singer Sargent, Joaquín Sorolla, Mary Cassatt, Anders Zorn, Sergei Bongart, William Merritt Chase, William Wendt, Rosa Bonheur, or Hanson Puthuff at work. (my list is MUCH longer than this)
I’d love to see their habits, their process, how they approached a painting when no one was watching. What techniques did they rely on? How often did they scrape things out or start over? What little shortcuts or rituals never made it into the art books?
Of course, I’d also need to be a multilingual fly so I could understand any self-narration they did while painting — I’d probably recognize the curse words muttered when something went wrong though!
Q: What's a book you think every creative person should read?
Since it’s clear I can’t give a short or direct answer, let me offer a few options! While these books aren’t specifically about creativity, I do believe that deeply appreciating any art form makes us better artists.
I read widely and across many genres. I like to think of books as being good for my heart, head, or tummy. I’m always asking other readers for recommendations, so here are a few favorites from recent months:
Heart (books that help me grow):
Atomic Habits by James Clear and The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin. Both gave me insight into how to be more productive and understand myself and those around me.
Head (books that teach me something):
Anything by Erik Larson or Ross King (most are art related). Their historical writings read like a novel while sneaking in an education. I recommend starting withDevil in the White City (Erik Larson) and Judgment of Paris (Ross King).
Tummy (books that are simply fun and satisfying):
My current reading adventure is the Expeditionary Force series by Craig Alanson (especially in audiobook form, narrated by R. C. Bray). A shout-out to my fellow sci-fi nerds who have a love/hate relationship with Skippy the Beer Can. IYKYK.
Q: What's the piece you're most attached to and could never sell
My husband occasionally picks a painting of mine for his office - he would be pretty miffed if I sold them. Otherwise, everything is fair game. I'll paint more.