🍓Strawberry Fields🍓

In strawberry fields with velvet skies
Tell me your secrets and I will never lie.

Rose colored glasses,
Your smile and the warmth of sunshine.

I dream of you. I dream of bliss.
Holding your hand we laugh. So damn devine,
Nothing is real if our love does not exist.

-c.k.

Boy, Have I Got A Story For You

You don’t live in the south and not have a story or two to tell. Being a southern woman you have to hold your own. I’ve been part of some wild times with more to come – no doubt.

From the night with a southern Aryan Brotherhood and being initiated into a biker gang…..take into account I’ve never had a motorcycle or wanted to be part of said gang…but you kinda don’t say no. To nights fishing in the gator infested swampsland of Texas and camping in that Airstream for like 2 weeks. Been completely knocked over by the waves of the Gulf of Mexico.

-Had bonfires bigger than a two story house and drank illegal moonshine
….got waaaaay drunker than I can recall. There’s that time in New Orleans at the French Quarter tattoo shop to street raced with a group of mexicans. I’ve explored abandoned theme parks and insane asylums. I’ve been spelunking and lost on the river….a few times. 😉

I was broke down in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma for half a day…and that was before cellphones! I’ve been caught up in quite a few tornadoes…which is still one of my biggest fear to this day!

I’ve carried a gun for safety, needless to say I’ve put a few people in their place.

Let me tell y’all somethin’, being a sassy woman is in the south is a must. I’ve grown to be strong willed and very much southern. I’ve got all the stories to go along with it! 😉

Beautiful Mess

Our house is always changing. I never keep something in one place for too awfully long. I would love to say I have it in order…like ever but, I do not. Art is always leaning against the walls. I collect weird things and live in a old house. I have an obsession with mirrors and for things that glow softly.

But…..right in the middle of my crazy mess is my husband. Loving me for my need for change, my haphazard way of acting like I have my shit together and the never ending crazy that is me. He is my constant, calls me his beautiful mess and finds my artistic brain endearing. We grow together and learn more about each other everyday.

Our journey is definitely not perfect but, I find these moments and am proud of this beautiful life we have created. 💛

A Love Like Johnny & June

Rings of fire burning with you, I wanna walk the line, talk the line, until the end of time. I wanna love, love you that much.

Inspiration hit hard this past weekend. If I wasn’t creating art, I was thinking about it!

I found inspiration in the form of love. A bond between two people so strong it overcomes all obstacles.

Johnny & June are the perfect love story. He absolutely loved and adored her. This drawing of a letter he sent her on her birthday represents that in the most beautiful way.

If You’re Gonna Post A “Selfie”

This isn’t my favorite painting. Not even my second ;)…..it’s a self portrait from 2012. Created in place of a night I couldn’t sleep. Not unusual but, that night was especially rough. I decided to focus my energy. I had a mirror that was eye level and thought it would be challenging to do a self portrait as a live oil painting. Adding a whole other level of difficulty I painted it on a piece of glass. I spent 6 hours painting as I looked in the mirror. This is much MUCH more difficult than I thought it would be!!

First off, oil painting is a skill that is only honed by practice….LOTS of practice. Second, looking at myself for six hours from night to morning is a whole other depth I wasn’t prepared for and I’m yet to do it since.

You force yourself to look inward. Do you like what you see? Can you focus and portray that to others? Are you beautiful? Do you love yourself?…Do you see your weaknesses?….as an artist and as a person????…..All questions I asked myself when painting this…along with a massive train of other thoughts.

I don’t “like” this painting but I do love it. I love what it means to me. I LOVE that I don’t have a photo to reference. I love that it was in the moment.

I really love that I can look at this painting and know I did my best at that point in time.

I’ve had other artist tell me they hate it. “The detail in the hair just isn’t there”…”your eyes make me uncomfortable.” “Why does your forehead look that way?”….blah..blah..bluhbadi, blah..

To be honest, I don’t care if anyone likes it. I have learned to judge my art on my own level. If I feel it has value I don’t care if others see it. Or even like it.

It means something to me. That’s all that matters.

Convos Between Siblings

They chat through their own bedroom windows about the cars passing by and what they are reminded of. Bruce and Teddy Love have a side convo about bear things and all I can think about is how beautiful this moments is. Standing in the hallway silently watching my two favorite people live out their childhood…..just smiling about how happy I am to be part of it. ❤

Seeing the bond between these two, I find myself incredibly happy to be their mother. Happy I can provide them with things I never had as a kid. Happy moments and beautiful memories. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

These Moments

This is a watercolor painting of my daughter in a moment we shared one week into parenthood. The illumination is a perfect representation of the new parent high I was running on. And, of course includes that baby smell. 😉 I swear it’s like catnip for women!

How could I not be inspired by her beauty? As I slowly layered the colors I could feel incredible warmth coming from it. I knew I had accomplished exactly what I intended.

In these moments of creative clarity adrenaline fuels me. When I look at this painting I can imagine that memory perfectly. I feel her in my arms and can remember how the golden sun made its way across us.

That moment is perfection. Creating artwork that draws me in and keeps me intrigued is what makes it important for me. I love these moments. They are priceless.