Of All Possibilities… Devotion (to Art)
May 19, 2026Throughout my career, designing for manufacturers, department and retail stores, museum and gift shops, I was giving form to their vision but rarely meeting the people that lived with my designs. When I did, it was a wonderful moment of connection, sharing how my designs came to be and how my work fit into their lives.
The demands and detours of my life and work pulled me in many directions, always racing to catch up to the next. The pandemic and subsequent lockdown were an unexpected threshold, a time of shifting, of becoming myself again. I took the long road back to my roots, my influences and the many skills of my formal art studies that had been locked away in my someday vault.
Studio art allows me to use materials in traditional and new ways, moving between substrates, mediums or expression without constraints of color, size, purpose or time. Commercial art sets all of the rules before a single stroke is made. Fine art takes its time, takes you on a journey, takes you to yourself.
Working directly and independently with my clients allows me to have that meaningful connection. The vision and emotion that unfolds in the process of creating becomes the vocabulary of a silent conversation between art, artist and viewer. Our stories do not need to be spoken to be heard. This is what I share with you.
The New Studio Space
After the new mess was cleaned up!
December 1, 2023The studio needed a complete renovation but I put it off until we decided to refinish all of our wide plank floors (and live here while doing it…). I had to clear out everything, dreaded as an idea but a chance for the purge and once I got started, remarkably satisfying (of course I now worry about needing something from my merciless culling of art supplies). It helps to throw away things you don’t need or even want and find all of that wonderful empty space. Lately I love empty space. I had been set up for how I worked long before the pandemic and all of that changed. I needed a bigger work table, lots of storage for the many new materials I’m discovering and working with and less clutter, less stuff all around me. The first project in my new studio, hand made ornaments for 2023. I have always loved making them especially in my new space!
Healing Angels of A X X I A
December 4, 2022“ I have sent you nothing but angels…” ND Walsh
and it seemed that way… this was the year of finding joy in the sorrows, where there is loss, there can be gain, my senses seem to be amplified when my spirit is raw… as I joined torn clay strips, the angels took form with gesture and grace, then to the Raku fires for glaze… scrubbing away the last ashes revealed their nuanced color, crackles and iridescence and then, they awaited their wings… each figure guided me to the colors, materials, adornments and the pieces of reclaimed wood that they would stand on… the angels had arrived.
Hand Made in Our Studio ~ One of a Kind
The Making of Art Angels
December 4, 2022My Art Angels are born from my new work, segments from my original paintings have been transferred to canvas, double sided to “stuff” them a bit and add dimension so they are not flat like a drawing or painting. Their simple body forms are made from antique linen, the clothing details and wings formed from the bits and pieces that filled my work table… antique linens, silks, canvas, laces, textiles, torn paper, stitchery and tiny treasures… all over painted so that the colors are as I want them, like a painting. I do not make dolls, I do not know how to sew, I do not seek perfection. I may never make another one again but the angels are here now.
The Center is Fire
"In each moment the fire rages, it will burn away a hundred veils. And carry you a thousand steps toward your goal.” ~ Rumi
November 11, 2020Those early dire warnings of the coming eclipse darkened our lives at the edges, seeping like a spilled ink bottle until we were completely saturated by the unknown. We learned to live in the shadows, to see in the dimmest light and without endless distractions, we had not yet realized that this was the time to find ourselves again. It’s easy to forget what we love, what we hope and dream of. We don't even notice that we often come to speak of these things in the past tense, I used to… Those long lists stored somewhere in our minds may no longer even be about us in the here and now. When did we last find the time to rewrite them?
Now we had nothing but time and a new experience… going slow. When you get out of the fast lane, you begin to see those side roads you never had the time to travel. That’s where where all the treasures lie. Inspired thoughts took form….storm wood, clay, metal, hand made and gathered objects from near and far.
The elements can not be understood with words, they are experienced. Fire stands in the center and holds the secrets, ceremonies and rites of transformation, initiation and rebirth. Ancient hearths kept alight, fire deities, prayer rituals. To strike the match is a summoning for this intermediary to awaken incense, candles and our souls. Smoke, ancient scents and flickering light blur ordinary reality, they are practitioners of the magic and mystery that lead us to another realm where we find ourselves again.
The Art of Dressage and the Frame Drum
March 6, 2020Other than my passion for both, on the surface there seems to be no connection between dressage, a riding discipline and frame drums. Life is like that in many ways and if you are willing to look a little deeper, you will discover the unexpected. Learning dressage has been one of the more challenging things I have asked of my body and my mind. Any riding discipline requires practice and more practice, corrections, refinements, criticisms and the will to keep going. The hardest work of dressage is what is barely visible. You might detect the subtle leg and seat cues from rider to horse but never the rider’s mind at work. So what does any of that have to do with my frame drums and the Circles that I hold?
Dressage was an ancient war horse training. The drum could awaken the energy of the warrior, not to strengthen the fight but the mind to do so. To be the best rider or warrior there must be control of breath, impulse and thought.
Those beautiful dressage riders that hold the viewer in awe as they glide in oneness with their horse are in their zone, they know their center and ride from that place. The drum’s destination is that very same place, our center where our spirit dwells, where there is absolute calm and tranquility, where we can connect with unconscious and conscious awareness.
My frame drum collection grows, each one has a different voice to teach a different lesson, just like every ride, every horse has done for me. As my ride has improved so has my drumming… knowing without questioning, led more by instinct and less by intellect seems to be the same road that leads to the art of the ride, the art of the drum and the art of being our true selves.
Amulet of Desert Nomads
Tahoua Amulet hung with ancient rock crystal bead, antique gold leafed wax bead, hammered metal hook on a slice of antique reclaimed oak beam.
January 31, 2020My latest acquisition ~ a large Tuareg Amulet for the door of my treatment room
My collection of amulets, talismans and magical jewelry grows, there are certain cultures that attract me strongly and then I follow the path to discover the reason. Sometimes called a cross by Europeans, it is not, it is an amulet of protection for nomads living in the Sahara Desert, an inhospitable place filled with supernatural forces - Jinn, evil spirits, Ghul, setting traps for desert travelers. There are 21 Amulets, each design identifies a location of origin, this one a Tahoua. Every man, woman and child has an amulet, sometimes with magic formulas, made of leather or silver, the metal of Allah. Tuareg crosses were passed down from father to son with the words, “I give you the four corners of the world, because one cannot know where one will die”.
The origin and meanings are unclear, derived from the Ankh, symbol of the Goddess Tanit, male and female sexual symbols, triangular designs protecting from the evil eye, the position of the 4 stars of the Southern Cross? The best explanation… “in Africa everything is always true and possible.”
Rituals of Earth Sky Spirit
January 19, 2020For your sacred altar, Spirit Feathers carry the smoke of purifying and smudging rituals... companions for crystals and collected treasures, objects of focus in meditation and prayer, enchantments for the gods & goddesses... created with gifts bestowed by nature and embellishments of many ancestral cultures and traditions, feathers are filaments that connect the realms of earth, sky, spirit.
The making of Spirit Feathers is a process of many days. It begins with the choosing of the feathers. Their curves are the compass that points a direction, the painter assembles the beguiling palette, the energy master awakens the sticks and stones, they become storytellers of lore and history, keepers of ancient rituals and traditions. Our rests hold Spirit Feathers in the best position for the natural curves of both feathers and antler tips. We select the stone or shard that partners best with your piece.
Conjuring The Color
December 10, 2019That Binney and Smith box of 64 Crayolas with a built in sharpener was the start of it, a hypnotic lure, each one sampled with care and analysis, shading, rudimentary cross hatching, layering of colors. My mother made me color with the old man that visited the restaurant, how I hated him handling my magic sticks with no regard for their power, marring my coloring book with his stupid choices. I tried to give him the images I didn’t much like but really, I liked them all. He wore out my points, he tried to peel back the paper, if anyone was going to do that it would have to be me, oh my sacred crayons. So I painted a cloth for a display and the brush didn’t work very well, only the hands seemed to get the paint where it needed to be. But when I was done and hung the cloth up to dry, there were the hands, the colors and I didn’t want to wash them. Staring at them I was thinking, I didn’t even know what paints I would choose when I started. And then I wondered, who conjures the color, was it me or that 8 year old girl with the 64 Crayolas?
Who conjures your colors, where do they come from in your work, not the stuff that has to get done, I’m talking about the good inspired work?
It's Official
Warm up with Harley at Blue Ribbon Farm Schooling Show
December 10, 2019I have received my USEF classification and am now officially a para equestrian athlete competing in dressage. I’ve worked so hard, no easy days but all worth it!
WILD HEARTS
September 8, 2019Kennebunk Maine… the wild rocky Atlantic stirred by the last gasps of hurricane Dorian, high tide, wave after wave, the hypnotic beating of the ocean’s heart. My mind surrenders to a meditative state. The winding shore road is edged with boulders that stand like sentries, if you dare to venture below you have entered the realm of those that travel above and below the sea. The receding tide uncovers a rocky pathway to the water’s edge, blanketed in a seaweed forest of colors and textures, anchored tough to withstand the never ending furies. I scan the recesses and crevices, I am compelled because I sense there is something to be found. Everything that lures me is just beyond reach, just beyond safety. Boots and socks off, down the rocks I go, planning each step for the surest footing, if I want to reach this unknown, I must be a part of it. And then it’s there. In a bed of purple seaweed, an altar of wild hearts, left behind by someone. To be discovered by someone like me. If I had not looked harder, reached beyond my moorings, risked a crashing fall, heard the sirens’ songs, I would not have found the heart shaped rocks, I would not have been the person they were left for, I would not have found what I was really seeking, my own wild heart.
Looking for Meaning
April 4, 2019“Trust that which gives you meaning and accept it as your guide."
Carl Jung
About the Clay
April 1, 2019“My hands are my tools. I am a potter working with traditional firing techniques. The clay taught me that art does not discriminate, you come to the clay as you are, there is no imperfection, only honesty, my work is all hand built, my fingers and my spirit imprint the clay…” Alex
For me, the wheel was a machine that demanded something I couldn’t give it, perfection. It’s not even a concept familiar to me so instead of watching the hypnotic process of fingers to clay and a pot magically growing tall as the wheel spun, we just clashed and nothing, n o t h i n g happened. My pots were of another gravity, perspective, dimension, tipping, flattening, collapsing. My wheel work just wasn’t. So if your point zero is not like all the potters around you and the machine can’t accommodate your differences, how could it possibly work? The wheel didn’t want me but… the clay did. The clay is of the earth, the ever changing flow of rains and rivers, it is shapeless and has a shape of it’s own and so do I. So I stayed with the clay and not with the machine and have learned to give in order to get. I have been taken back in time to the old ways of potting, I have experimented to replicate ancient glazes and wear and I have met the fire gods. They allow me the hard work and intention but they are the ones that have the power and they decide what the end result will be. Pulled from the fires, the unknown, the unexpected, it is my work, my spirit is in the clay but with their presence, the signature of fire.
In the Works
March 19, 2019Images, colors, textures… landscapes of meditation, journeys, dreams… keepers of symbols lost, hidden, forgotten, remembered… I paint energy and spirit… the goal is not constrained perfection, it is authenticity of my spirit in flight.
A X E
About Ornaments
December 11, 2018When my daughters were young the weeks before Christmas were magical. We visited a chosen store, sometimes local, sometimes in our travels, carefully looking at displays to make our most important decisions…the purchase of our annual ornaments, one for each of us that would be filled with our stories as we decorated the trees to come.
The most beautiful ornaments were made by Silvestri and as fate would have it, I showed my portfolio to the woman responsible for them, Linda Simpson… we immediately knew we would work together. As a licensed artist for Silvestri I designed complete collections, working with many kinds of materials and surfaces alongside the visionary Linda@lindasimpson.imagine, and production and sourcing genius, Maureen Monahan (love you ladies XXX). Our never ending product development meetings in that Boston office left us delirious with Linda’s wondrous discoveries from her trips to overseas markets. Cartons of those treasures were shipped to my studio, textiles, beads, feathers, trim, metals, objects all found their way into the collections I designed. I loved making prototypes even knowing that their nuances could never ever be mass produced but still, the painter demanded the colors, textures, finishes and authenticity of the designs.
These are the images that moved my spirit and imagination once upon a time in my art history classes, the Rinascita, Italian Renaissance, a rebirth of minds, arts and culture emerged from the silent piety of the dark ages, wealthy patrons of the Italian city-states sponsored artists and the philosophy of Humanism, religious subject matter persisted but now with a breath of life, 15th century paintings captured the realism of beauty, form and gesture, a flush to the cheeks, a gaze, a tilt to the head, cherubim and watchful angels hovered above, surrounding innocence with ethereal beauty.
Yes, I am the painter. And here are the prototypes, our ornaments are little works of art that can not be reproduced, the images, reclaimed wood, textures, colors, finishes, collected and created embellishments, all are one of kind, and with one purpose… to bring joy to the eye and spirit of their beholder, you.
Chasing Serenity
November 14, 2018It’s hard to turn off the chaos that’s all around us and necessary if we want to be creative. Rituals help me to transition from my getting it all done mode to the opposite that is concerned with only the singular, the one task, the full focus, creating. Incense is burned in one of Alex’s clay works, honey scented beeswax votives from a Greek monastery light my collection of antique hanging church kandili, lit in the day for scent and in the night as companions. The day’s intrusions are a fire works display, look here look there, one burst fades and then the next and the next. The idea of serenity is a chase, where are you? The single flame is a meditation, a slow walk, an exhale, the path to calmness, high creativity and serenity, the place where art lives.
So how do you find your serenity, how do you turn off the chaos, where is that little crack where you can slip in and just have a moment?
Riding the Circle
August 13, 2018The rituals in the preparation for show day, something beyond practice and refinement. Cleaning the tack, the scent of polished leather, the buffing cloths with blackened waxy tufts, the gleaming hardware released from a cloak of dust, the rhythm of waxing and buffing, the giving and taking, the yin and yang. My clothing and gear signal my transitional state of mind, an out of body experience, there is no longer the self and the horse, we are a singular unit, I find his breathing rhythm and it becomes my own. The world blurs to faded background colors, my sharpened focus is my horse’s head and the markers that are my cues. I know where the judge sits, I know that I am judged but it matters less when I am in the ring and begin to ride the circle. My ancestors believed in circular time, the repetitions of seasons and tides, suns and moons, births and deaths. There is comfort and familiarity in the circle, it begins and ends, you can not be lost because you will be found, by yourself, by your spirit, by rebirth. I ride the circle of my life, I ride the circle upon my horse.
The Beginning
November 6, 2017After years of city living something changed with our move to the country, something we weren’t expecting. Not after all the years of turning off, blocking out, bolting in, keeping the sensory overload on the other side of the locked apartment door. We ventured to Long Island each weekend for Alexandria to ride horses. We knew nothing about them but in a short time we each had a strong wanting to be with them, something that was yet to be understood. I don’t remember the exact moment that we even thought about moving but when we found a barn on 3 acres in various stages of disrepair, we just knew.
It was imperceptible at first. We were changing on the inside and only began to really know it once we were comfortable enough with horses to just be with them. A stillness at day’s end, their exhale, our exhale. To find this pure moment in yourself is a kind of prayer, a gratitude, a transcendence carried on a breath. The gates open to a place where nothing is as you have always believed. Not even yourself. Silence has its own voice, ever changing subtleties paint each dawn and dusk, fill the sky with stars and wash the paths in moonlight. Of course, all of this had always been there but now was our time to know it. The only way to ever see the stars is to stand in complete darkness.
The seasons came and went like tides, changing the contours of our lives, leaving behind their tokens, filling the crucible of our creativity. We worked as always, painting, building, shaping, layering but now the sticks and stones had new life. A voice. We make things with what has been all around us, wood, stone, metal, clay, all with their own beauty, spirit, story. We make things with what is inside of us. Our collaboration is an echo of the old ways, we bring our skills, our ways, our knowing and infuse our creations with what has given us meaning. It is the meaning that sustains us on the journey.
Desert Mind - Contemplating The Circle
November 1, 2017The sun began the setting ritual in the cloudless southern Arizona sky, such a beautiful but unfamiliar blue edged by mountains, so different from what I see each day. The day does not surrender to night without notice, the showy change of light and color mark every single thing, dark to darker, dusk to night and then, it all begins again. Time is a circle. For the artist, time is a circle.
We are born filled with wildly free creativity and must pause to learn the craft, the tools, the mediums, the techniques, the disciplines that will be our allies as we pursue what we have imagined. And often, our course is changed, must be changed. I was the painter that found my way into the world of commercial art and design and I confess, I loved it, the parameters, deadlines, sensibility, pace. Projects with beginnings and ends. There was satisfaction in seeing a finished product but always, the disappointment of it never quite being as envisioned and intended. And then there are the complications of life. So that button that held back the most creative thinking stayed in the pause position for a long time. But the circle does turn, slowly, and it has returned me to the artist, the one with the wildly free creativity but tempered with the good lessons acquired in the circle. The painting, drawing, sculpting, etching, printmaking, building of the early years come to mind so clearly, the techniques of long ago are now present and ready to be the allies, the ones I need right now. The desert was the quiet place, in a desert mind I could think and see clearly, I saw the sun set and rise, I saw circle, I saw my circle.
Desert Walk
“It’s your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you.” Rumi
November 1, 2017The Arizona desert, the sun descends towards the Pacific that waits beyond the mountains. I walk the dust with Linda Kohanov and the black mare. The horse has tested me and then, trusted me and we have found our relationship outside of the limitations of our species. I have traveled far for my visits to Eponaquest but the true distance was my desert walk, the truth teller. The mare would not follow me unless my leadership was worthy of her acceptance. She had no reason to want my company, I offered no treats or commands at the end of her day. With every step, Linda taught me the power of non-predatory leadership. Power can be as soft as a whisper but can be heard by those around me, the animals, the humans, the spirits. My horse work, my riding, Reiki, and my spiritual practices all connect to each other, like ancient marks on a hide map that reveal the roads to be taken. In a moment such as this time stands still, the light washes the landscape, we breath as one, we are filled with knowing, there is no better moment, we have become ourselves.