What does it mean to be submerged? To surrender to the currents, to dissolve into the depths, to become one with water’s eternal ebb and flow? Water is both refuge and reckoning—soothing, eroding, renewing.

Guided by the Blue Mind Theory, these paintings explore the liminal space where water and consciousness intertwine. Bodies of water exist in a state of paradox—constant yet ever-changing, familiar yet unknowable. Immersion is the only way through.

In water, there is no separation. The self dissolves into waves, rocks, sand, sky, and unseen creatures moving in the depths. The unconscious mirrors the ocean—vast, uncharted, seeking the deepest path beyond sight. Water compels, soothes, terrifies, and revives. It is movement—gentle as seaweed drifting, violent as storms shattering the shoreline. It is stillness, silence, and the gasp of breath before surrender.

Scratched lines become reeds, twigs, and marshlands; circles echo stones, sun, moon, the endless cycle of life and return. Water sustains, nourishes, and claims—its presence is absolute, its absence, devastation. It is both our origin and our undoing.

This series is a meditation on water’s power, its femininity, its infinite presence in our collective memory. It is birth, death, and the vast unknown in between. In the depths, we are nothing. And yet, submerged, we feel everything.

Life is one of tension. Tension of possibilities and impossibilities. Tension of strength and struggle. Tension of the beautiful and the grit. Where there is beauty, there is grit. Where there is grittiness, there is grace. This series embraces both beauty and grit, knowing that you can't have one without the other. Here's to the grit. Here's to the beauty. May you grow and flourish in the tension.

This series of 9 paintings was a means to work through unresolved difficult parts of a relationship with someone who passed to find, if not joy, at least healing, and growth. This process led me to Tonglen, an ancient Buddhist practice meaning "sending and taking." It is meant to awaken compassion. This practice calls us to invite in life exactly as it is, the suffering and the joy and the everything-in-between, to connect our personal experiences with those of all beings; to cultivate presence and radical acceptance, a place from which our wakeful work can begin, to send healing energy out into the world.

Do you love the twilight - the gloaming - part of the day? Where the sun has gone down but it's not yet dark? That in-between where everything becomes a lavender haze and edges take on a soft focus? It's one of my favorite parts of the day, especially in the summer when the light seems to ever so slowly fade.

The gloaming comes as a benediction to the day and overture to the night. The brief spell when the heavens begin to draw their curtains and give to the night its first star. Twilight time is one of delight with its momentary changes and revelations. We are face to face with the mellow hours of the day. It's the time of lounging around with friends, faces tinged with a blue-violet glow. We take a collective breath to relax even further - to let go. Smiles come easier. Tongues are loosened. We may speak softer or louder with sweet truth. Our laughs become deeper causing our bellies and cheeks to ache. The serious action of the day is over. Plans of tomorrow are brewed in the light of achievement of today. Life is reviewed anew.

Nature feels closer, more intimate, more connected - we feel more interconnected. The fragrance of the earth wafts by more intensely. The fireflies twinkle in the evening light. The insects begin their chorus. The bats swoop by to earn their supper. The deer step out of the dark woods to frolic and play. The gloaming is seasoned by nature.