I’m delighted to share some exciting news — my watercolor painting Surf and Stone – Snowy Egret has been accepted into the 49th Southern Watercolor Society Annual Juried Exhibition! The exhibition will be held at the Gadsden Art Center & Museum in Quincy, Florida, within the Sara May Love Gallery and Sarah K. Newberry Gallery, from February 20 through April 25, 2026…

As artists, we’re always learning — often without realizing it. Every brushstroke, every observation, every challenge that nudges us beyond comfort adds to our understanding of both art and ourselves. Each painting becomes not only a story about its subject but also a record of growth — a map of what we’ve discovered along the way. For me, lifelong learning isn’t confined to formal instruction.

There is something truly magical about connecting with the natural world through art—a quiet celebration of life’s intricate beauty that invites the viewer into a shared moment of wonder. For me, painting wildlife is not just about capturing an image; it’s about preserving the spirit, the essence, and the story of each creature. Miniature painting, with its centuries-old tradition, has become my chosen language to express that intimate connection, a way to honor both nature and the timeless lineage of artists who came before me.

As I reflect on my own artistic journey, I am continually reminded that realism is far more than a style—it is a bridge that connects us, generation after generation, to the natural world. The endu…

There’s a moment, somewhere between seeing and painting, when the world becomes very still. The brush hovers, the light shifts, and something wordless passes between artist and subject. In that quiet exchange, I find the essence of what I do—a kind of conversation that has nothing to do with words and everything to do with attention. Each painting begins with observation, but it’s in the stillness that follows where I begin to understand.

People often think of art as a flash of inspiration or a gift of talent, but most of the work happens quietly—paintbrush in hand, hour after hour, day after day. When I look back on my own journey, I realize that patience and persistence have shaped me far more than inspiration ever did. They aren’t glamorous qualities, but they are the ones that keep the creative flame alive when excitement fades and results feel far away.

Every painting begins with a moment of stillness—a flicker of recognition between artist and subject. For me, that moment is where the real work begins. The meaning of naturalism isn’t found in copying what I see, but in understanding how it feels to witness it. To capture something truly—to let it breathe on paper—I have to slow down, look longer, and listen deeper.

Trust your own path, even when it takes you off the beaten trail. There’s a wonderful kind of energy that comes from being a young artist—so many ideas, so much passion, and that irresistible urge to create something meaningful. It’s easy, though, to look around and wonder if you’re on the “right” path: which subjects sell, which styles are popular, what everyone else seems to be doing.

Adirondacks National Exhibition of American Watercolors 2025 I’m deeply honored to share that my painting has received the H. Samuel Slater Memorial Award at the 2025 Adirondacks National Exhibition of American Watercolors. The recognition means a great deal, not only because of the show’s long tradition of celebrating excellence in watercolor, but also because this particular award is presented for a landscape.

Artistic journeys are seldom linear. Mine has been a path shaped by curiosity, patience, and an ever-deepening reverence for the natural world. Over the years, as I’ve explored different styles and techniques, I’ve found myself returning again and again to realism—not as mere imitation, but as a way to truly connect with the essence of wildlife. In the early days, I experimented with several approaches, seeking to capture the spirit of the animals and wild places I love.

One of the most profound lessons I’ve learned at the easel is how wildlife painting is an invitation to be truly present. In our fast-paced world, it’s all too easy to overlook the quiet wonders of nature—the subtle shift of light on an animal’s fur, the alert tilt of a bird’s head, or the intricate patterns woven into a forest floor.

As I reflect on my years of painting wildlife and immersing myself in the natural world, I’ve come to realize that art and nature are not just sources of inspiration—they are powerful forces for healing. The intersection of creativity and the outdoors offers a unique path to well-being, one that nurtures both mind and spirit. When I paint, I find myself entering a state of mindfulness, where the world’s distractions fade and I am fully present with my subject.

As I look back on my years at the easel, I am reminded again and again that painting is so much more than the finished piece that hangs on a wall. It is a journey—one that unfolds with each brushstroke, each moment of observation, and every challenge along the way. For me, the true richness of art lies not in the destination, but in the process itself.

As a wildlife artist, I have witnessed firsthand the unique power of art to open hearts and spark meaningful conversations about the natural world. Art transcends language and background, offering a universal way to connect people with the beauty, complexity, and vulnerability of wildlife and wild places. In a time when our planet’s biodiversity faces unprecedented threats, I believe that art is not just a reflection of nature—it is a vital force for conservation awareness and action.

As I stand before a blank canvas, I am always aware that I am not just creating an image—I am participating in the preservation of memory. Fine art, especially realism in wildlife and landscape painting, serves as a living archive of the natural world. Each brushstroke is a testament to the beauty, complexity, and fragility of the environments and creatures that inspire me.

The vibrancy and life I strive to capture in my work come from a deep connection to the delicate and magical qualities of nature. Through a traditional miniature painting method, I find a perfect conduit for expressing that subtle vitality. This technique allows me to portray not just the outward appearance, but the quiet, shimmering essence of my subjects—the lightness of a feather, the softness of fur, the glow in an animal’s eye.

There is a quiet dignity in wilderness—a grace that feels both timeless and fragile. As an artist captivated by the wonders of nature, I am continually inspired by these intimate moments when wildlife reveals something beyond mere presence—a moment of wild grace. These flashes of magic, often brief and subtle, pulse with life and meaning, compelling me to pause and witness fully.

In a world that seems to move faster with every passing day, I find solace in the gentle, deliberate rhythm of painting. Each brushstroke is a quiet act of resistance against the rush—a way to reclaim time, presence, and meaning. The art of slowing down is not just a luxury for the artist; it is an essential part of my creative process and, I believe, a gift to anyone who chooses to truly look.

One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned as a wildlife artist is that true artistry begins not with the brush, but with the eye. The power of observation—the ability to see deeply and with intention—transforms not only the way I paint, but the way I experience the world around me. It is this practice of mindful seeing that brings authenticity, emotion, and life to my work.

As I work at my easel, each brushstroke feels like a quiet act of preservation. Wildlife art, especially when rooted in realism, is more than a celebration of beauty—it is a living record of the wild places and creatures that still share our planet. In a world where so much of nature is under threat, I believe that art has a unique and powerful role to play in conservation.

As a wildlife artist, I’ve often wondered what it is about realism that captivates us so deeply. Time and again, I see viewers pause before a lifelike painting, drawn in by the illusion of reality—sometimes reaching out, almost expecting to feel fur or feathers beneath their fingertips. There is something universally compelling about art that so closely mirrors life, and I believe it speaks to something fundamental in our psychology.

In the ever-changing world of art, it can sometimes feel as though the winds of expectation blow in every direction at once. Markets shift, trends appear overnight, and new technologies reshape what it means to be an artist. Yet through it all, I’ve learned that the most meaningful compass I can follow is the quiet one that points me back to my own sense of purpose — staying true to myself.

This weekend, I am honored to share a gift of a new original painting with the Carpenter St. Croix Valley Nature Center for their annual fundraising Gala. The work features a red-tailed hawk — a striking and resilient raptor who served as an ambassador during one of the Center’s recent release events. I was profoundly moved by birds such as this one and the story surrounding their journey to recovery, which highlights both the fragility of wildlife and the extraordinary care provided through rehabilitation and education.

In my studio, painting has always been more than a means of creating images—it is a practice in presence, a form of meditation that grounds me in the here and now. The act of painting, with its rhythms and rituals, allows me to step away from the noise of daily life and immerse myself in the quiet world of observation and creation.

Art That Holds More Than Image—It Holds PresenceRealism of painting in miniature isn’t just about capturing detail—it’s about connection. The way an animal’s gaze lingers beyond the canvas, the quiet energy that radiates from posture, the unspoken mastery held in stillness—these elements draw viewers in, allowing them to step into the subject’s world. There’s something deeply immersive about wildlife in art.