I learned to paint in New Mexico. I traveled there for graduate school, but it wasn’t so much the classroom that taught me to hone my artistic skills, but rather the landscape. The Cadmium red of the rocky ground, the intense Cobalt of the sky, and the scent of the dusty sage became my palette. My en plein air painting was more than just a record of what I saw in front of me on the long tenting trips spent backpacking and painting in the desert landscape. Still, a journal, a meditation on the heat, the overwhelming expanse, and the almost painful beauty of being in an environment that existed long before me and would remain long after I am gone. I learned that a single brushstroke, applied quickly and precisely, can capture a fleeting moment of light, suggest wind or heat, and blend intense colors on the canvas. This technique remains at the heart of my oil painting. Although I moved back to the East Coast from New Mexico, I brought the soul of the desert landscape with me. Whether working outdoors or referencing photos in my studio, I rely on the magic of gesture and the hues of thick paint to convey a sense of atmosphere and place in my work. Like the Old Master Whistler, who signed his paintings with a butterfly, I enjoy slipping foxes and hummingbirds into my paintings, as these animals have become my personal iconography. I painted hummingbirds in New Mexico after reading that they were harbingers of good luck in Southwestern lore. Hummingbirds continue to find their way into my paintings, along with foxes. After my son was born, I felt a little fox symbolized his sweet and troublemaking nature. Hence, there are frequent foxes hiding in the thicket of my brushstrokes or dreaming alongside painted waterfalls. Some of my paintings incorporate collage techniques, balancing bold brushwork with the swirl of marbled paper or golden patterns.