I paint the moments that interrupt us — the small, beautiful disruptions that make us feel something we can’t quite name. Flowers, the changing seasons, and music are the biggest emotional triggers in my life, and they’ve become the heartbeat of my work. Flowers especially fascinate me. They appear at both the highest and lowest points of our lives — at births and funerals, first dates and final goodbyes. A bouquet can speak love, grief, or forgiveness without ever saying a word. I’m drawn to that ability — how one simple object can hold so many meanings at once. When I paint flowers, I’m really painting those emotional collisions: joy beside loss, beauty beside impermanence.

​

The seasons hold that same emotional language for me. Each one has its own personality that shapes the way we move through the world. The humid energy of summer feels expansive and restless; winter slows everything down, makes us more inward, reflective. I notice how light and temperature change not only what I see, but what I feel — and that rhythm seeps into the work. My paintings are my response to that connection we all share with the natural world. Even in the same studio, my choices shift with the seasons — color, pace, even the way my brush moves — because my emotions shift too.

​

Music is the final thread that pulls it all together. It drives my process in the same way it drives memory and emotion. I often listen to one song on repeat while painting, letting it shape the mood of the piece. It becomes a quiet conversation between my inner world and someone else’s — their song becomes my color, my movement, my atmosphere. I use watered-down acrylics, blending wet on wet until forms blur and merge, creating that dreamlike haze where moments and emotions overlap. To me, that softness is everything — it mirrors the way feelings actually live in us: fleeting, layered, and hard to hold onto.

​

Now, living in Provence is expanding this language in ways I’m only beginning to understand. The light here is its own kind of interruption — softer, slower, ancient in a way that changes how I see color and how I move through my day. The landscape, the architecture, the quiet rhythm of life are reshaping my attention and deepening the emotional layers of my work. I’m here to soak all of that in: the textures, the seasons, the stillness, the beauty that exists without asking to be noticed. As I grow in this new place, my artwork will grow with me. My hope is to give that inspiration back to the community — both here in Provence and beyond — through paintings that carry the soul of this experience and meet people the same way a song does: unexpectedly, in the chest, making them feel something real.