We both are involved in outdoor conservation and are advocates for nature. With this year being the country’s 250th year celebration, the America the Beautiful pass is using a political portrait that replaces what is typically (and legally supposed to be) a scenic image of our public lands. If you visit our federal lands, you’re probably familiar with the story. So, this month we created the first of four protective pass sleeves featuring Elias’s landscape photography that align with the pass’s directive to celebrate the beauty of our American landscape. We currently offer Arches NP, Grand Canyon NP, Glacier NP, and Grand Teton NP, and a portion of proceeds go directly to organizations that support the National Parks, who have seen significant cuts in funding.

in the studio

Studio time was a bit of a hodge podge, finishing one painting from a previous plein air piece, varnishing and framing a painting that sold, and spending time writing more of my ‘love notes’ to nature.

love notes.

While I’m still working to get comfortable with the simple vulnerability of sharing what has mostly been personal thoughts and writings on nature, one thing I quite enjoy about these love notes is the process of writing them. It’s become a beautiful way to capture memory and feeling and place that is interwoven with the painting itself.

en plein air

I was scheduled to host a plein air paint out with the local arts coalition mid-month, but ended up canceling due to weather. It’s been a very warm and dry winter here in Arizona (Flagstaff is at ~7,000ft and we do get snow!), so the storm system was welcomed though impractical to paint in.

Alas, I did get outside in February! A friend and I traveled down to Prescott to paint at Willow Lake — not a lot of water, though it did my soul good to spend time shore-side watching the herons, egrets, and hawks while the geese gossiped amongst themselves. I’m pleased with the result, and starting to bring a new level of ‘finished’ in the field to my plein air work.

a look ahead.

There is still an embarrassing pile of nearly-finished paintings to work on and I’ve narrowed down where my next 30-day plein air painting project will be, so regardless of the weather, I have plenty to focus on.

The best laid plans… as they say, so I won’t forecast too much of what lays ahead this next month, though fingers crossed more days are filled with brush strokes and time among the trees and creeks and bird song.

So, I will just simply begin…from here, for myself. And you are welcome to read over my shoulder the notes on interesting bits to remember, the little wins to celebrate, and embracing the “messy middle” that is filled with richness and opportunity.

a look back

I took a little inventory a couple months ago: through 2025 I created over 50 paintings in various forms of done, good, interesting, and “erm, at least I learned something with that one.” And here I thought I was just painting in circles, lost, feeling as if improvement or progress was beyond me. How easily we distort reality with fear or misjudgment of one’s self.

While I didn’t sell many paintings, the year was filled with learning and growth and reflection, and the end of 2025 brought with it a breaking open.

In September I started a 30-day project focused on creating 30 small plein air paintings. There are 34 hanging on my wall at the moment, and it has been one of the greatest growth sprints in my painting to date. I plan to write more on this, as it’s morphed into a 100 painting project (on pause for the moment as life got life-y), but has changed the way I see and approach plein air and studio work.

from there to here

This piece has been in progress for a few years, starting as an abstracted acrylic cloudscape loosely based on trips to New Mexico. It took on various forms as I meandered through it, and at some point flipping it over…there it was. Through the fits and starts and direction changes, I let go and saw what it was to become. The feelings of connection bubbled and the painting process became personal and quiet. A new journey began, and a conversation opened between us (yes, me and the painting). When the last stroke of paint went down, I could hear the exhale of knowing that it was done. I realized that this painting could not have been completed three years ago. That I was not ready to have painted it then. That we both needed this time to get from there to here.

tiny treasures

There is nothing quite like the unbridled encouragement from an 85 year old woman. At the prompting of my very sweet aunt I made a new batch of the Tiny Treasures cards — one-of-a-kind greeting cards created from color studies and sketches gone rogue. Some of them are so achingly beautiful, I almost want to keep them. Watch out Florida, she has a stack of her own and is a big fan.

works on paper

During the search for Tiny Treasures I stumbled across a pile of works on paper, some from almost 10 years ago! It is amazing to see the change from my earlier work that was more controlled and graphic, to the more recent pieces that are exploring abstraction. There are over 30 pieces that I’ve since matted and am prepping to put up for sale soon.

ahhh, the blurring of time from december into january.

in the studio

Much of the last few months has been focused on sorting through and finishing nearly completed paintings (uh, there’s a lot), many that have started en plein air and some studio pieces. This month I finished eight of Sedona, four of which have been updated on the website and are on display at Canyon Outfitters in Sedona.

There are another dozen from the southwest that are varnished and waiting to be framed, photographed, and put up in the shop.

Speaking of framing — I now own a table saw and am going to try my hand at making frames. Simple floater frames to start, that I think will work well for my little plein air project pieces and for those really big canvases.

en plein air

Two trips down in Sedona this month to paint en plein air. We won’t talk about the one I ended up scraping (ha!), but the other turned into my first nocturne. And I am absolutely in love with its thick paint, deep color, and emotive character.

There is a constant struggle with the vulnerability of sharing work on social media and the awkwardness of what to say (um, that goes for life in general). This month, however, I started sharing paintings with these little love notes that I occasionally write to nature. Still vulnerable, but posting the painting alongside the words feels almost easier. That they need to be shared together.

While some of these January days were a bit overwhelming as I feel the impatience of wanting to be “further along”, I’m learning to recognize that this is it, the path, my path. And I’m learning how to pace myself to keep the momentum while celebrating those little wins that move you forward even if you can’t see it at the time.

And then, almost like a switch, vivid reds and yellows signaled the impending winds and chilled air, too-quickly giving way to burnt crimson and those under-appreciated tans that crunch underfoot. I appreciate the leaves that forgot to let go, clinging to branches, blown back and forth, and still vibrating in celebration of the sunlight as nights become longer.

As John Nichols wrote, “We are touched by magic wands. For just a fraction of our day life is perfect, and we are absolutely happy and in harmony with the Earth. The feeling passes much too quickly. But the memory – and the anticipation of other miracles – sustains us in the battle indefinitely.”

Those moments are what make life beautiful. And they are there, everyday, if we are open to seeing them.

low-bar inktober

I committed to participating in Inktober this year – daily drawings in ink – with at least one per week (low pressure, ha!). Since our backyard birds started their migration, they were the perfect theme. I started with black ink pens with acrylic ink for color, but quickly abandoned the acrylic for the ease and portability of watercolor.

It was interesting to see how my approach to them changed over the month. I could feel the “perfectionism” trying to creep back in (and with it, pressure) but then eventually the “letting go” and being open to whatever came along: the good, the bad, the ‘mistakes’, the inspired bits.

An added bonus, these little sketches gave bright moments of satisfaction as I navigate a few paintings in the studio that want to remain in the 'awkward stage'. There’s about 45 bird species that we’ve spotted in our backyard aviary, so I’m going to continue with the birds as time permits for awhile. I keep a little sketchbook with pens/watercolor on the table, making lunch a great time to steal a moment of creativity.

works in progress

let’s cross here

You may remember a work in progress from July dubbed “cloud field at sunset”, well that has changed drastically! It wasn’t quite coming together, so I made one big change…turning it upside down. There’s much still to be done, but I am much happier with the direction it is now heading.

canyon bottom

Some plein air time to celebrate the end of October! The colors are way off, but it has some good bones to work with. It was a long boulder-riddled hike in, and such a great practice in observation. The extent of color variation in the granite and sandstone is amazing, let alone the full range of leaf coloration.

I’m looking forward to spending more time working on these, and several other paintings, the next couple of months. My mind is buzzing with ideas and techniques to explore.

creative highlight

joella jean mahoney

I finally visited Vast Lands, Inner Visions: The Art of Joella Jean Mahoney at the Museum of Northern Arizona before it closes next week. Her work is just stunning. Her energetic and gestural marks bridge abstraction and naturalism, and embody the essence of the Colorado Plateau with vibrant, yet grounded, colors. She would start by painting small, realistic studies of a location and then not refer to them again. They simply served as a step in preparation for her studio work, where she would convey her response to place through gestural abstraction.

The shop is now updated with original, one-of-a-kind greeting cards that are created from color studies and sketches gone rogue. I’ve captured the hidden gems within so you can share the beauty of original art with a friend…or two!

works in progress

painting under the Blue sky

How did I get so lucky?! Two jaunts outside wearing my backpack filled with painting supplies. It has paint on it now, so it’s officially my painting pack. I’m still getting the hang of things, but it’s been a great experience and gets the ideas roiling for larger-scale paintings in the studio.

If you’re signed up for my monthly-ish Studio News(letter) (I just sent my first, yay!) you already had a peek at a work in progress that came from an outing early in the month near Sunset Crater National Monument. This is one of my favorite views in Flagstaff of how the land settled after the volcano erupted. My husband has taken photos from this area for years, so when I had an unexpected afternoon free, I knew exactly where to go. And looking over this sea of late summer flowers toward the San Francisco Peaks I had to capture more land than my usual preference of sky-dominant compositions. It needs a little work yet, but I rather like where it seems to be heading.

In celebration of the Autumnal Equinox, my friend and I went out to a lesser-visited area west of town with our plein air kits. This spot has a beautiful view of the San Francisco Peaks in which you can actually see Humphreys Peak, the highest point of this dormant volcano. There are parts that are working for me in certain areas of the mountain and the perspective underlying the foreground. But, overall, this one needs a bit of work and some effort to fix those muddy colors and lost shapes.

studio progress

sedona to the east

This past spring I took a workshop on abstracting the landscape down at the Sedona Arts Center. It was good and I appreciated learning a structured approach to abstract landscapes.

I had swung so far into the pure mark-making as a starting point for abstraction, that seeing a methodical approach provided a gentle reminder – and permission, perhaps – that I “can” bring in a more defined intention earlier in the process.

I like to think of realism and abstraction along a spectrum. So where, now, do I want to lie along that spectrum?

It’s not a clear answer, but it starts with letting go. In listening closely and responding. In picking up those stalled pieces and starting again. Learning along the way, and letting go, too.

This is where I am currently with the piece started in Sedona. It had good energy at first, and then it lost something along the way, and then stalled. It’s starting to work better, but still not quite there. While I love the turquoise sky, I’m probably going to knock it back some – in person it has a bit of a green glow - ha!

Rinaldo

Talk about letting go! I went ‘round and ‘round and ‘round with this little painting. I was determined to play with perspective looking out from a tree limb. It just wouldn’t come together; instead, when I finally let go, out flew Rinaldo.

Rinaldo is actually a single, young raven that started to hang around the backyard this summer. I’m pretty sure he has a slightly bum wing, though he does fly. I suspect he wants to be adopted by the neighborhood murder of crows given his earnest yet respectfully-distanced positioning with them. In the meantime, I will happily feed him peanuts and it is always a delight to see him.

creative highlight

Maria Thompson Seep

Maria and I shared a table at the workshop in Sedona where I started the red butte painting above. She has an Etsy shop with these fantastic hand-painted boxes and occasionally an original painting. I find her style calming and introspective, love her color palette, and really appreciate the simplicity in her clouds that suggest thoughts of Georgia O’Keeffe.

So, here we are! This little scene sits on my desk for periodic mental wanderings. It’s the little things, and this just makes me happy.

october

A few women from my local creative group that meets once a month will be participating in Inktober this year – daily drawings in ink. Some are following the official prompts, others are doing their own thing. Me? I’ve committed to at least one per week (low pressure, ha!). Our backyard birds are starting their migration, and are the perfect theme as we bid them farewell. It’s been a while since I’ve used ink, so this will be fun and good practice.

The three large paintings are waiting to begin their rotation on the easel. Which is okay as the month was filled with new explorations and learning, and hints of an answer to “where next?” Though it still feels somewhat nebulous as it takes form, I can see bits coming together both creatively and personally that are encouraging. What does that mean? Ha, stick around, we’ll see…

plein air painting

My good friend and I took a 3-night camping trip to the Jemez Mountains of New Mexico. Our plan was to visit a few local areas and hot springs to try our hand at plein air painting – a first for both of us. We ended up spending two days in Valles Caldera National Preserve, a 13-mile wide depression resulting from volcanic eruption over 1 million years ago. Huge, sweeping mountain meadows, wildlife (so many kestrels!), and meandering streams greeted us and offered those big New Mexico skies that I just adore.

I am not sure why it’s taken me so long to try – I loved it! My little sketch kit that I take on backpacking trips has watercolors, and I of course take tons of photos for reference back in the studio, but coming back to oils was like being embraced by an old friend! Painting amongst the land and clouds and all that I love about nature, was like coming home.

The last couple of years I’ve been working with acrylics. A studio practice that I’ve stubbornly stayed with even through both frustrations and what often feels like aimless meandering. That said, as I approached this painting en plein air with oils, I could see the impact that both my play with acrylics had on the color palette and the looseness of strokes…the bits coming together.

other highlights

At home I’ve been working on a variety of studies exploring color and abstraction. I’m intrigued by how little the eye needs to see in order for the brain to understand, and how I can push myself toward the expressive nature of that space between representation and pure abstraction.

These studies are also an exercise in loosening up. I’ve been playing with this process for a while now where I start making random abstract marks, layering paint on top of paint with no real color palette or direction in mind. At some point I start to see something – maybe a color combination that catches my eye, or a hint of shape – and I try to resolve it in some way while keeping it fresh and interesting. Little art pieces with adventurous spirits. Not always pretty. Sometimes odd. Always with a story.

And being who I am, I must frame them! Well, sort of…I’ll be matting them, the good ones. I bought a mat cutter so I can cut the random sizes these tend to be and offer them ready-to-frame at 11” x 14”. It’s been well over 20 years since I’ve cut a mat, and it’s been fun to relearn the process.

These matted studies on paper will be offered first to my newsletter subscribers, so please sign up if you’d like to have first dibs!

slow and steady september

I am not prognosticating anything this time about what’s to come in September! Though I will continue to heed the amorphous siren’s call and get back to a mountain, or canyon, or a field with my plein air kit. I plan to see two exhibits – one of local Flagstaff painter Sandy Thybony at West of the Moon Gallery, who is showing with Cyd Martin this month. Sandy’s somber-faced children with their animal familiars are delightful (and I have an ongoing love for her ravens!). Cyd’s color exploration and handling of the beautiful light found in the West’s canyon country is seriously breathtaking. And then finally catch the Joella Jean Mahoney retrospective exhibit at the Museum of Northern Arizona before it closes in November. There is something than draws me into her landscapes – abstracted play of color and value, yet enough to see a place that feels like home. And while I didn’t have the privilege to meet Joella, I humbly inherited one of her palette knives.

going bigger

One of my goals this year was to paint larger. And, as part of that, to have three large paintings that I could work on in rotation. While they are at various stages, I was delighted to start this third painting at the beginning of the month. It is the smallest of the three at 16 x 20” and I am absolutely tickled at the evolution of the color palette. I have no idea where it’s going and if it will stay representational, but I find it charming and am intrigued to find out.

hazel burgess

Part of life finds me as a graphic and web designer. I’ve had the distinct pleasure of periodically meeting up with fellow artist Hazel Burgess to answer any questions and as she builds her own website. For years Hazel painted animal portraits and is now delving into expressive work that straddles a world between representational and abstract art, painting in both acrylics and soft pastel. It has been a true pleasure getting to know her as we’ve crossed time zones (she’s based in France), her energy and openness is inspirational. Hazel recently shared a mindfulness/meditation app with me – I’m just a week or so into it, and it has been a timely addition to my mornings. Her website is now live (hazelburgessart.com), and you can follow her on Instagram.

new mexico

I took another trip to Taos, New Mexico, if you can believe it. While there were big plans to reacquaint myself with oil paints, I was there for work purposes that took an unexpected amount of time, attention, and energy. Although my oil paints stayed in the tube, I did have a few noteworthy experiences.

Rio Grande River

Any trip to Taos requires a stop at the Rio Grande River, the 4th longest in the United States. In the 1800s it was a major transportation route for steamboats, but now you’re more likely to find whitewater rafts floating by or families along the banks. As with most rivers, however, over-allocation and climate change have affected the river’s health and the ecosystem that relies on it.

When we were here in early June the water levels were flowing very high from a snowy winter. While we had wanted to float a section of the river, it would’ve been too dangerous for pack rafts then. This trip I didn’t have my boat (or husband), so I opted for a foot soak.

Fatima Ronquillo

A delightful exhibit at the Millicent Rogers Museum in Taos, Fatima Ronquillo Recollected: Portraits of Enchantment is a collection of her portraiture depicting heroes and heroines immersed in the flora and fauna of places near and far. Her classically inspired imagery is imbued with subtle environmental overtones, magical realism, and nostalgia.

Georgia O’Keeffe Museum

I took an extra day on my way home to spend some time in Santa Fe. It had been several years since I last visited the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum, so it was the first stop before exploring other galleries and shops. I had seen On the River | Canyon Country (left) a few years prior after a river trip in Glen Canyon, which is the setting for this painting. O’Keeffe took a rafting trip down the Colorado River through Glen Canyon with photographers Eliot Porter and Todd Webb to document the canyon before it’s red sandstone walls were to be submerged by the Glen Canyon Dam (creating Lake Powell).

When I came around the corner and saw it again, it was like meeting an old friend. After having a very stressful two weeks before this, my heart (and nervous system) just let go and I cried. I don’t know when or why certain artworks will stir up emotion so deeply, but when it does it’s a beautiful thing. Pink & Green (right) was placed right next to On the River, so I kept moving between them like we were sharing some understanding of time and place. And, can I just take a moment to praise that salmon pink?!

monsoon

It’s been a bit of a “non”-soon this season in the American Southwest. We aren’t too surprised given the predictions, but these long stretches with minimal rain keeps the possibility of wildfire at the forefront of thought. I returned to Arizona just as a monsoon pattern was setting up and tagged along with my storm-chasing husband to photograph lightning around the San Francisco Peaks here in Flagstaff. It was a blessing to get rained on and experience the energy of a storm as it rolls over you…and the light, simply breathtaking!

looking ahead

August seems more manageable and I have a few creative goals in mind. Progress on the 3 large paintings, of course, and I’m thinking about a studio sale to kick off the launch of my studio newsletter. There are a few new, small pieces to add to the shop, as well. If you’d like to know more – and get first dibs – sign up for the newsletter!

the beginning

A snowy winter season brought good water flow to many places in the arid southwest, including the Escalante River in southern Utah. We loaded up our gear and packrafts to spend 5 days meandering among the beauty of towering sandstone cliffs, and listening to birdsong and chants of the leaves as breezes blew through. I had been craving a trip like this, needing to reconnect with the natural world and feel its inspiration.

the middle

A few days after returning from Utah, we made our way to Taos, New Mexico for a work trip. Taos is art, and they embrace all of its forms. I was able to take some time to visit the Harwood Museum of Art as they celebrate 100 years and learn about the history and role that Taos played in the larger art movements of the last century. And see some varied works, from Georgia O’Keeffe and Elaine de Kooning to local, contemporary artists in the community.

An unexpected meeting with author John Nichols, now 83 with a failing heart, at Brodsky Bookshop was the cherry on top of an already fantastic trip. He was kind to sign “My Heart Belongs to Nature: A Memoir in Photographs and Prose” and then spent a good hour talking with my husband (also a writer and photographer). A nature-lover and creative with an impish twinkle still in his eye, Nichols’ spirit heartened my path in life.

Our work commitments ended and we drove up into the Sangre de Cristo Mountains for a couple nights of camping and exploration. These mountains are magical. Each morning heard a pair of tanagers singing in the tree canopy and hummingbirds zipping by while a robin was on the hunt for worms outside the tent door. It never ceases to amaze me how time calms and inspiration begins flowing when among the dirt and grasses, birds and clouds – perfectly simple.

the latter part

The first part of June was definitely a blur, but provided so much energy and inspiration from which to draw. I’ve started a new, large cloudscape. Initially it felt bolstered by thoughts of Taos and the big, expansive skies of New Mexico. As the layers have been added, however, I can see the influence of Utah, as well. Seems fitting to blur them! And I’m a bit surprised by the palette – lots of color. I’m also thinking of starting another bigger piece based on the Utah sketches (bottom two, below) to work it in tandem with the cloudscape, and see how they influence each other!

The last few days I spent some time making one-of-a kind greeting cards from color studies and sketches gone rogue. Even seemingly lackluster pieces or fizzled ideas have hidden gems within and I love highlighting those in a way that shares the beauty of original art with a friend. I should have them in the shop soon – sign up for my Studio News(letter) to get the update.

It has been a great month of stolen creative moments and time spent in the wild places to reconnect with my self and with the bigger purpose of it all…rejuvenating and motivating and all that good stuff that life should be!

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten…

― James Russell Lowell

In the meantime, several more layers have been added to my big ‘ole 3 foot by 2 foot painting, now dubbed Red Tank Draw. My love/hate relationship with acrylics seems to be stabilizing as I figure out what this painting wants to become. It has been two years since I started playing with acrylics and it has been a rough road. Why do I stick with it, then? Stubborn, maybe. But they do have the benefit of drying fast which makes it easier to layer quickly, work through ideas, and change direction. The call to return to oils has been growing louder, though, so we’ll see what evolves this summer.

Anyways, back to the now…as I find where to land on the spectrum between abstract and representational, time at the easel also has it’s ups and downs. Finding “it” and losing “it” and finding “it” again. It is such a powerful position to approach this with an openness to failing, continuing through it, and figuring it out along the way.

now

then

I’m giving myself space and time to figure out this one, and it seems to be working well. The tree has that end of day “glowiness” in the shadows, the values capture that late-day ambiance, and the color palette is starting to work without being too “sweet”. Though that far canyon wall needs some attention, it has a good base to work from. It feels as if we’re closing in, and I’m excited to see the next version.

layers along the way

  – Wendell Berry

I’ve been stuck. Too much in my head. Too long hiding behind perceived ‘shoulds’ and external priorities. It’s now time to let go. To embrace the imperfection and the not knowing. To celebrate the power of curiosity and simple exploration. To give myself time and space to listen and make peace with decades of chasing. What? I don’t even know; I wasn’t successful at it.

But here I am. Learning to let go. To let it all go. To listen; to feel; to be vulnerable; to be patient with myself.

While I’ve avoided writing my first ‘studio notes’ for months (months, like almost a year!) it has allowed me to shift my mindset to writing these for me, to record my thoughts and progress. And I’m finding it easier to work through the anxiety of opening up to the outside world, especially when I don’t always feel connected with myself.

So here I am. Beginning.

Here’s to the vulnerability of opening up to others when you don’t know. When it feels raw and you feel lost. When you are reaching around in the dark, feeling for something that resonates and lightens the path some. A current of curiosity. A taste of the novel, yet familiar. Embracing the unknown and being open to the stumbling that happens along the way. And being okay with whatever comes of it.

Letting go in order to begin the real journey.

on the easel

The urge to paint at a larger scale has been growing, and here is my first ‘go’ at a 3’ x 2’ piece. Lately I have been approaching the start of painting with abstract play to enliven the surface – no intention, just slopping pigment around. I love finding patterns in randomness, and this approach allows for that. But, I can feel unmoored after a few layers, finding and losing the energy in it, as with this one. So it has been sitting.

On a recent hike outside Sedona, we spent much of a warming, sunny afternoon watching this ephemeral creek flow. Trees were starting to bud. A few butterflies cruised by. And a flycatcher was snacking on unsuspecting bugs. A few quick snapshots to capture the moment.

And now I see it! A glimmer of recognition and a feeling of the path this painting wants to go next. I’ve had a strong grip on the idea that I had to paint without a photo reference (for too long now!) and I’m excited to take this forward. To merge the two ideas – abstract and representational – in a way that gets me fired up and connected to both. 

More to come. I have no idea where the journey will end with this one, and that is okay. This is what it is all about.