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She Grew Along

March 26, 2018


On The Making Of

It began with a house, one that stuck to me while driving the Shoreline Highway in California on a road-trip with my daughter. This other-worldly house stood abandoned on the side of the road, white clapboard, windows boarded up, a spiritual lighthouse along a mossy, leafy, raindrop-strewn road. I felt something when I drove by, a longing, a beckoning. The house felt haunted almost, but not in a malevolent way. It was a beacon of the restless spirit, a siren call from the collective unconscious. The image stuck with me, and I often thought of that house over the years that followed. Recently, I had the opportunity to amble along its patch of road again. I paused to say “hello” and take a photo. The house stood just as stately and enduring and beautiful as before. It inspired me. It spoke to me. Perhaps because I too had become solitary, an abandoned building of sorts, a mother with two children recently grown and flown, a woman entering a new stage of life, one more weathered, but no less savored, a time for cultivating lurking fascinations.


House Along Shoreline Highway

Once back at home, I began to play with the image on Photoshop. I added a field of wildflowers emerging from the windows, door, and roof, and trees reflected in a lake behind the fence. I titled this digital image “Wild Abandon.”


Wild Abandon: Digital Artwork

From here, I printed several versions of the revised image and used them as background for the collage which I overlaid with paint, papers, and tree bark. Once I was satisfied, I added the poem. I began with a sentence, “In her solitude, she grew along the edge of her dreams like a vine and waltzed with the wild things.” I printed several versions of the sentence in different fonts and then, cut them up to compose the poem, using starts and stops and repetition to give the words a sense of breathless wonder as the poet runs into the wildness of the universe within.

She Grew Along

waltzed with the wild things, In her solitude
in her solitude, solitude,
she grew along the edge of her dreams
she grew along        she grew along the edge of her dreams
the edge of her dreams like a vine and waltzed with the wild things, In her
waltzed with the wild things
In her solitude
she grew along
dreams like a vine and
waltzed with the wild
with the wild things. In her solitude, she grew along the edge of her dreams like a vine and
waltzed with the wild things,
like a vine
she grew along the edge.

poARTetry at Oceanside First Friday

July 3, 2016

poARTetry would like to send out a BIG thank you to the city of Oceanside, Oceanside Art Walk, and the friendly staff and volunteers of the Oceanside Art Museum (a gorgeous building with amazing exhibits and delightful gift shop – definitely worth a visit!) for providing space for poARTetry’s debut exhibition during the Letters and Lines event. It was such an inspiring event in so many ways – the kindnesses of others, the conversations with fellow artists, the reading of poetry, and the celebration of creativity in all forms.

Zenish Snail

June 27, 2016


Untitled Mixed-Media Collage

September 23, 2013
Mixed-media: collage and encaustic

Mixed-media: collage and encaustic

Stand (Tin Can Lid Book #3)

August 1, 2013


back up
apart from the crowd
for something
by for take-off
in awe

tin can lid book

Cover and Pages 1-3

tin can lid book

Pages 4-7

tin can lid book

tin can lid book: STAND

tin can lid book

Binding and Cover Details

tin can lid book

Top-down View

Custom Memorabilia Collages

June 26, 2013

Over the past year,  I’ve mostly been doing art in my head: fantasizing over future projects,  dusting off my studio each month with the best of intentions,  dutifully cooking with cans of peeled, whole tomatoes and saving the lids, dropping off into exhausted sleep with visions of ModPodge dancing in my head. But, life is life and middle age is middle age, and this past year kicked my ass with a refresher course in life management skills 101.

Fortunately, my artist’s soul was kept on life support by the patronage of two clients on Etsy. The first inquired as to whether I could create a wedding present for his bride by incorporating memorabilia from their lives together into a collage that resembled pieces in my store. “Say no more,” I said with a leap of gratitude and joy in my heart. “It would be my honor and my pleasure.”

Completed Piece: Wedding Gift

Completed Piece: Wedding Gift

This was followed a year later by a request from someone who had attended the wedding. She asked if I might make a similar type of collage for her to give to her husband for their wedding anniversary. Again, “Say no more,” I said. “It would be my honor and my pleasure.” This client had recently returned from a trip to Europe with her husband and wished for a collage created from memorabilia collected during their trip. One of the places she and her husband visited was Cinque Terre in Italy, which had a special significance due to the inherent enchantment and breath-taking beauty of the location. I decided to construct the collage to resemble this small fishing village situated on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea.

Completed Piece: Anniversary Gift

Completed Piece: Anniversary Gift

These artworks are the bookends of my artistic year. I am grateful to each client for gifting me with the opportunity to create and for trusting me with their most dear memories. My enduring hope is that I will continue to find openings in which to create. There was a 1 cent sale at Aaron Brothers yesterday, so I took the first step by stocking up on blank canvas. Maybe I should go take it out of the bag?

Flower Series #7: Pickin’ Flowers

June 26, 2012

mixed-media collage


March 19, 2012
mixed-media and personification

mixed-media and personification

Vulnerability waits patiently outside the shuttered fortress you’ve expertly constructed out of unuttered words, blank stares, and 50 lb. bags of isolation. You’re somewhat impressed when she makes it through the gates of “I’m fine, thank you” and “No, I don’t need anything,” but when she swims across the moat of Fuck-You-Very-Much-infested waters, your jaw drops. “Who the hell does she think she is?” you ask your pet rock. Before you know it, Vulnerability is sitting on the porch swing admiring the view. She can’t hear you yelling at her to go away due to the lead-lined sheetrock and spray foam insulation.

Your first mistake is to crack the door open an inch in an effort to swat her away with your long-handled broom. A ray of sunlight blinds you temporarily and like a shadow, Vulnerability slinks inside. She’s a mess which is no surprise. It’s to be expected of someone who walks with open arms into streams of cascading arrows. She’s used a few to hold her hair together in a loose bun. There are creases around her eyes where life lives. Her skin is mottled, a patchwork quilt of life’s residue: smooth glowing patches where Love struck, angry red welts from pricks of Shame, pinpoints of light where Joy pierced her ears, Grief-stained fingertips, freckles born of Beauty’s stinging blows, and translucent scars on knees scraped bloody tripping over Rejection’s outstretched foot.

Vulnerability’s sudden presence causes your skin to tingle and your brain explodes with memories of sound and color and taste. You watch helplessly as your brick-and-mortar mausoleum starts to shake and crumble. Shutters break apart and clatter to the floor, letting in a flood of light that washes you outside. “You can either sink or swim,” Vulnerability shouts across the gushing waves of electromagnetic radiation. You grab hold of the color purple and reach for a wavelength of green to steady yourself. There’s light in your eyes, your nose, your mouth, and ears. You can hardly breathe.

Once you are tossed back into Vulnerability’s river, you draw from the reservoirs of everything you once knew in order to survive. You ignore the inane ranting and raving of Fear who insists you get out of the light right now. You lean heavily on Trust to guide you through the rapids. You float without direction until you hit solid ground, where you walk again toward cascading arrows with open arms.

Flower Series #6: One Little, Two Little, Three Little Flowers…

February 26, 2012

mixed-media collage

Flower Series #5: Wall Flowers

February 7, 2012

mixed-media collage

Wall Flowers – aka – Flowers you can hang on your wall – Enjoy!

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