09/2016. 18" x 18", 1 and 1/2-in. profile.

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Sold 11/15/16 to a private collection in Seattle, WA.

Subterfuge, 07/2016. Acrylic on canvas. 24" x 30", 3/4-in. profile.

In how many umpteenth ways do we sabotage ourselves daily? We tell ourselves what we do is not good enough; we second-guess our decisions and even the validity of our feelings.

This piece went smoothly for the first 90% of its creation. Just when I thought I was steps away from completion, I got stuck and became so dissatisfied with it that I couldn't bring myself to work on it for months. After a long period of impasse, I suddenly started working on it again. I refused to let me sabotage this painting.

04/2016. 24" x 36" with 1-3/8 inch profile.

Growing up in New Jersey, we used to vacation on Cape Cod during the summer. Some of my fondest memories are of our trips there -- salty breeze in our hair, the tang of ocean water on the skin; the heavenly aroma of clam chowder and charred corn, gulped down in the beautiful outdoors.

I'd started painting this with the intention of adding it to my Music series, but somehow it evolved on its own and went in an entirely different direction than I had intended. One day, I suddenly stopped and looked at it, and it was so evocative of our summers on the cape that I could almost smell the salt in the air.

03/2016. Acrylic, paper, and oil pastel on canvas. 22" x 28". 3/4 in. profile.

The ancient Greeks believed in Fate. They said there were three sisters of fate, the Moirae, who Erebus begat. I saw the strings of destiny in this piece, and the tree of life.

I wrote a blog piece about it, which you may read here.

02/2016. Acrylic & collage on paper. Approx. 36" x 28". Including mat & frame, approx. 41" x 32.5".

I wrote a poem years ago about the inevitability of mankind to err. A stanza of the poem had imagery on a kingfisher's flight over the horizon; for some reason, as I finished this art piece, remnants of that long ago poem came to mind.

This piece sings to me -- I shall have to find that old poem, or -- write a new one.

02/2016. Acrylic & mixed paper on canvas. 22" x 28"; 1-1/2 in. profile.

I had this idea of creating a piece that was made with only the remnants of leftover paint and materials. It stemmed from a desire to have equipoise between being frugal & saving as much paint as possible, and challenging myself to use what would otherwise be refuse. 

How can we look at the discarded things around us and learn to look at it differently? What have you tossed from your life that could be recycled into something else? Would someone else view your garbage as trash, or as treasure? I challenge society to reconsider what it is we -- as a collective -- let go of so easily, and if we can redefine our unwanted possessions into something desired.

What other detritus of our lives have we cast off without seeing its beauty and value?

Read my full blog post here.

12/2015. Acrylic, oil pastel, and rice paper on canvas. 24 x 24, 3/4 in. profile. 

"To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come..."

I tend to have vivid dreams. The kind filled with saturated colour and emotion so that you can almost taste it on the tongue after waking. My dreams are not always pleasant -- I'd call them fantastical, yes, but not necessarily what fairy tales are made of.

I painted this from one of the rare dreams I had, from which I woke refreshed and peaceful, vaguely recalling the soft diffuse light and colours. I was at Monet's garden in Giverny; a quiet Japanese courtyard in the spring; on a Tibetan mountain top with temple bells chiming in the distance.

11/2015. Acrylic, charcoal & collage on paper. Framed with custom matting. 18 in. x 24 in.

I wanted to deconstruct & reconstruct a fairly traditional tableau of still life (vase, pitcher, plate) into an abstract piece. I did a continuous line drawing of these objects, cut them out and applied them to gessoed paper with acrylic medium. I then painted and drew over the collage with acrylic and charcoal.

11/2015. Acrylic and oil pastel on canvas. 24 x 24, 3/4 in. profile. 

"I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold"

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Sold 4/15/16 to a private collection in Mill Valley, CA.

11/2015. Acrylic on canvas. 15 x 30, 3/4 in. profile.

This turned out completely different than what I had planned, but I like it so much more than its nascent form. I titled it such as a reminder to pause during moments of dissatisfaction, and to look at things with fresh eyes and not give up.

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Sold 11/15/16 to a private collection in Seattle, WA.

10/2015. Acrylic, glass, and silver leaf on canvas. Framed. 36 x 48, 1-1/2 in. profile. 

This is painted on a recycled canvas, which previously was of an elephant floating whimsically away while tied to a bouquet of balloons. I never loved that piece and it sat on my fireplace mantle for over a year while I kept going back to it, not knowing what else it needed to feel complete.

Fast forward a couple of years and I finally decided that the elephant's story had to take another shape. The first few brush strokes were terrifying, but then suddenly I felt - overwhelmingly - that I was doing the right thing.

I liberated my fears and insecurities, and by doing so, gave the elephant the flight I had desired for it for so long but was unable to achieve. I named this piece with a nod to the elephant in the room; thereby acknowledging the fear and relinquishing it.

10/2015. 24" x 30", 3/4-in. profile.

Alien Landscape at Dawn. 10/2015. Acrylic on canvas. 22 x 28, 1-1/2 inch profile. Framed.

I started my life as an artist by painting landscapes in watercolour. My mother loved those the best -- although she's been supportive of my artistic growth since the beginning, she is the first to admit that abstract art perplexes her. I would show her my paintings and she would stare for a while, and say "I don't understand what this means" or ask "How is this supposed to make me feel?". When she saw this piece, however, she immediately smiled and exclaimed "This is pretty. I love it!". 

When I painted this, I wanted to express the juxtaposition of a traditional, thoughtfully blended landscape with the rawness and unpredictability of freeform dripped paint. I suppose it's a melding of my appreciation for landscape painting with my love for abstraction. Maybe this is what Mom sensed: the coming together of new and old; acceptance of the past while looking to the future.

This one's for you, 媽媽.

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Not available. In a private collection in Fanwood, NJ.

10/2015. Acrylic on canvas. 24 x 36, 3/4 in. profile. 

Many of my pieces are recreations of older works. I had painted a bamboo in the style of traditional Chinese watercolor, black acrylic on a bronze background. It sat in the corner of my office for a number of years, until I thought I could do create something different with a silkscreen feel.

10/2015. Acrylic on canvas. 24 x 24, 3/4 in. profile. 

10/2015. Acrylic on canvas. 24 x 24, 3/4 in. profile. 

This piece frustrated me for a while -- and in its final form, is unidentifiable from the time of its conception. I'm happy with the way I was able to evoke movement and shape on the canvas. 

(More details on this journey in the blog post from 11/12/15.)

09/2015. Acrylic on clay coated hardwood panel, mounted on wood. 8 x 8, 2 in. profile. 

For me, this evokes the boundlessness of the sea and sky, with mountains behind.

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Sold 12/18/15 to a private collection in Los Angeles, CA.

Circa 2000s. Acrylic on canvas board, framed (frame 2 inches wide). 18 x 24. 

This was one of the first pieces I did when I started experimenting with abstraction. I saw a painting of a dragon in an Asian art exhibit, and wondered how he might look if forced and constrained on a page. In expressing chaos, I found peace.