I have always seen color as a language, one that speaks before words form, one that pulses with memory and light. Growing up in Maine, the clarity of northern air and the quiet power of its coastal landscapes first impressed themselves upon my imagination. But it wasn’t until I arrived in Provincetown, first as a student in a summer painting program, that I discovered the particular energy of this place the way it invites both introspection and boldness. That invitation changed everything.
I became a year-round resident not long after that first summer. Over the years, my relationship to the Provincetown arts community has been as layered and evolving as my work itself. I’ve worked in galleries, taught workshops, mentored students, and collaborated with institutions that have shaped the cultural fabric of the Outer Cape—Castle Hill, PAAM, the Fine Arts Work Center. These connections run deep and have kept me rooted here, creatively and personally.
My paintings often created in encaustic, egg tempera, and more recently, through the lens of a camera are explorations of gesture, vibration, and structure. There is a modern sensibility in the way I approach abstraction, yet each piece is anchored in the visceral. I am not searching for representation; I am reaching for sensation. The influence of artists like Joan Mitchell, Hans Hofmann, and Lillian Orlowsky is never far from my practice. Each of them opened doors into a way of working that values immediacy, intuition, and the emotional potency of form.
Whether I'm building up the molten layers of encaustic wax or returning to the delicate discipline of egg tempera, the process itself is a conversation between material, memory, and the body in motion. In recent years, I’ve begun to revisit photography, a return that has reawakened my sense of composition and light in a new way. Still, no matter the medium, my intent remains the same: to create work that hums with color and contradiction, that feels alive and in motion, even when still.