commissions, ink

So in the past year it has become apparent to me that depictions of the tree of life are very popular.  I see jewelry and t-shirts.  One of my friends is using it as a logo for her business.  And now, I’ve been commissioned to paint it for one of my students.  She’s allowing me to interpret it and do my own version while giving me one image as a guideline.  I’ve also done a couple practice sketches in my sketch book and on some scrap paper.  This has all lead to a 20″x 16″ work.

Below I have some practice works and the final.  I wanted to do something simple.  Sort of going back to when I was practicing sumi-e painting, being able to work with the beauty of the ink as it spread on the paper.

It’s another study of process I think.





I float freely in contained space

Meredith's poetry, watercolor


I float freely in contained space

holding onto edges at lane’s ends

and staying within the lines

A safe place for me to think

I see more clearly under aqua blue

than when looking at mirrored reflections above

Buoyant feelings bubble out my throat

As each unspoken number brings me closer to the next turn

Bursting forth and slowing down

I turn my head for air

Kicking waves behind me

A few more silent numbers to chant before I finish

Horse Training

Day in the life

I started this series of a friend training horses maybe a month or two ago.  So far I have the location and some of the preparation, the ride, and the clean up.  It was fun to follow her around and see her ride at such a high level.  The location was beautiful too.  One of the perks of Maryland is all the beautiful horse farms.   IMG_2776


IMG_2772   IMG_2775   IMG_2773

On the Metro

sketch book



My friend Jessica Farley wrote me this poem in response to one of the drawings above.  Hope you enjoy.


Riding trains

It’s the sea-like lurch,
buckling then release,
waves and songs we search
to find meaning in to be.
I hear the metal orca song
in the background as he listens
to lyrics stretched just right and wrong,
some kinda jazz — man on a mission.
His eyes pull and shrink with age
neatly carved glasses light his sight.
Concave, convex shape the sage
blessed to see and hear the night.
Before we go down underground
this simple man shines rays in halo
enamored over what I’ve found,
this everyday angel in the metro.
His light is plain like Sun,
it inspires me to breathe
deep like wild blue rivers run,
verse in Creation I believe.
We ride the lines, together trip
over red, green, silver, yellow
until he slips through the grip
of doors meeting Heavenly fellows.
Past the angel in new blue seats
a couple counts their dreams,
unaware – love indiscreet,
touch makes life like prisms gleam.
They love like galactic clusters
of gas, color, and fueled up fire,
like raw elements in their luster
drawn to union in Space’s gyre.
There’s hush amid wondrous strangers
I long to share every inch — my story —
Yearn to make friends within lacquered languor
That peels off mundane into glory.
Here on Earth and down in dirt
I ride and watch people as I listen
to the wild tales that give life worth
till the train to sky has risen.