For most of my adult life, I wasn’t a painter.

I had studied Studio Art in college, but then life happened. I built a career, became a CEO, became a mother, and spent years moving very quickly through a very full life. Art was still somewhere inside me, but I wasn’t making it.

Then my life began to change.

I started painting again, almost unexpectedly, and once I did, it felt as though something that had been waiting a very long time finally had somewhere to go.

Today, I paint the places and moments that make me stop. A road glowing an impossible color. A barn beneath a huge sky. Lights reflected across dark water. The last few minutes before the sun disappears. Most begin with something I’ve actually seen, but accuracy isn’t really the point. I’m trying to paint the feeling of the moment—the part that stays with me after I’ve left.

There is a lot of light in my paintings. I don't think that's an accident.

Painting has changed the way I move through the world. I notice more now. I stop more. I look up.

And increasingly, I find that the ordinary isn’t very ordinary at all.