I came to watercolor under duress in 1999. I needed something to do while keeping a close eye on Ian, my middle child who is disabled. I was physically stuck but my mind was traveling restlessly outside the household boundaries. As Ian kept busy with painting and drawing I began to notice the array of colors he produced from a cheap little 8-pan watercolor paint box. I was fascinated watching him haphazardly slew the paint on the paper with such happy abandon and wildly colorful results. I tried it and I was hooked. I may have come to painting accidentally but I have become a lifelong captive.
My informal art training came in bits and pieces, mostly from self-study and trial and error. But I also learned from local artists who I questioned incessantly about this effect or that process and anything “art.” I created for myself a true “open” classroom. 10 years ago I started taking watercolor workshops once a year with renowned painters such as Alvaro Castagnet, Don Andrews, Tony van Hasselt and Tom Schaller. My painting is still somewhat sporadic as taking care of our son commands much of my husband’s and my time, but the next project is never far from my thoughts.
I love color. I love when it glows from it’s dwelling place, on a canvas, in the sky, filtering through trees or in a sun soaked landscape because it is surrounded by more subdued dark or earthy hues providing a showcase for the main event; glorious brilliant color. That brightness doesn’t show up without the darkness. It’s a very interesting concept in art. And in life. It was a darkness in my own life that forced me to find that elusive brilliance; bouncing, shining, reflecting, balancing, hiding. To capture this is my lifelong pursuit. In art. And in life.
I live in Conway, NH with my husband Gregg and my son, Ian. I do not have limitless opportunity to paint, but everywhere I look there is a painting waiting for me . . . .