9x5.5 foot Acrylic/oil and gold pigment.

The Becoming Dance

9x5.5 foot mixed medium

Drink Your Whiskey and Go Home

Large scale work is 9 feet x 5.5 feet on canvas, usually started on the street. A mark, a kiss, fingerprint, splattered anger, a little bug or a flower it is sewn into the painting. Every painting is a glimpse of transformation. A love letter to depression and divinity or maybe an obituary to who we used to be.

My work has shown and been published in The United States and Mexico

For current galleries showing my work please email me.

The forms dissolve into the other. Eyes open. Spirals spin. Sacred hearts burn. Dervishes worship. Animals speak. I’m mapping the places where my myth, memory, and mysticism flow into each other. I have had addresses in Los Angelos, San Francisco, Yosemite, The Oregon Coast, Arizona, New Jersey and currently I am residing in Mexico always among the beautiful people who live art, but it was Mexico where I was cracked emotionally wide open. The work is often communal at its start and deeply personal at its finish, but always about becoming.

My studio is open to young, old, middle aged and those who have found themselves on the street, artist who want to work alongside me.

There is a divinity in creativity, I aspire to inspire and encourage and to provide a safe space to be unapologetically themselves. I do not teach art, as in yoga each practice is something individually inspired and developed by a mix of the soul, life experience and communication with the higher self. I feel my job is only to encourage.

Below you will find some of the beautiful, shared moments, and art doing what it does best:

Changing the world one artist, one viewer at a time.

California Dream 2025
1.5 x 3 meter acrylic/oil on canvas

Lack of Reciprocity 2026

Acrylic on canvas, 1.5 x 1.5 m
I built this painting as a stage for a relationship that stopped moving (not one particular). The deep red field is the inside of that space: blood, heat, anger, love, and pain all closed into one room. At the center is a blue, leafless tree. It should connect everything, root to branch, giver to receiver, but nothing blooms on it.
I have been a caregiver many times over while living with Trigeminal Neuralgia a disease coined The Suicide Disease. That shapes how I understand reciprocity. When you are the one who gives care, often through physical pain, you learn how energy flows and where it gets stuck. The four winged figures around the tree hold roles I know intimately: the one who gives too much, the one who watches from a distance, the one who disappears, the one who acts but never truly connects. They all have wings. None of them are flying together.
The objects caught in the branches are fragments of the exchange. The Queen of Hearts is love turned into a role you are expected to play. The crowned skeleton is the ego that takes without noticing cost. The yellow kite is hope or relief that never makes it into the air. At the base, a clock marks time that was spent in care, not shared. The pink bone is what is left when the soft parts of connection wear down.
In the bottom left corner sits "Auto-Bible-ography". It is a play on words, because that is what the Bible feels like to me: one group's autobiography presented as universal law. I grew up with those inherited rules about duty and sacrifice. In this painting about imbalance, the book is closed and at the edge. Doctrine did not open the room.
Outside the red, the world is alive and chaotic. Green, turquoise, and gold keep growing. That matters to me as a person, woman, artist, mother yogi and dreamer.. Life does not stop when reciprocity fails. It just stops in that one room. The heavy black outlines keep everything separate. That is how chronic pain and caregiving can feel: crowded with need, but profoundly alone.
I called it Lack of Reciprocity because I am mapping the architecture of imbalance. The painting is not about blame or even a complaint. It is about what it looks like from the inside when the giving does not come back, and you are still the one holding the space.

Untitled 2026

Oil, canvas collage, and silver leaf on canvas
66 x 30 in. (167.6 x 76.2 cm)
This large-scale visionary painting unfolds as a contemporary mythological landscape where sacred, folkloric, and subconscious imagery coexist within a single dreamlike realm. Layered through oil paint, collage, and reflective silver leaf, the composition moves between creation and destruction, innocence and transformation, mortality and transcendence.
A procession of symbolic figures emerges from the surface: a radiant sun, sacred feminine iconography, birds, animals, mermaids, spirits, skeletal forms, and celestial beings. Rather than illustrating a single narrative, these images function as fragments of memory and archetype, inviting viewers to construct their own journey through the work work. The recurring eyes, masks, and watchful creatures suggest unseen forces—guardians, witnesses, or aspects of the self—observing the passage between worlds.
The silver leaf shifts with changing light, activating hidden passages of color and pattern throughout the surface. This interplay between illumination and reflection reinforces the painting's central theme: reality as a layered experience where the spiritual, emotional, and imaginative exist simultaneously.
Part folk tale, part personal mythology, and part visionary map, the work celebrates transformation, resilience, and the enduring human impulse to seek meaning within mystery.