There are a lot of painters out there who’ve spent their entire lives painting and creating art. I just don’t happen to be one of them. That’s not to say that I haven’t been around painters (my mother was a fabulous abstract painter) or been involved with the creative process. I have been involved in various artistic endeavors for many years but it’s only been the last couple of years that I’ve channeled that creativity into actually painting.

I have spent my entire adult life focused on other things. I am a licensed midwife, an herbalist, a mother, and grandmother. I’ve made jewelry, renovated my home, taught classes, and fed lots of people. And… I’ve always wanted to paint!

A couple of years ago I took a beginning pastel class from a good friend of mine. A few techniques and some bad paintings later I was completely hooked. It’s as though someone flipped a switch in my brain and I have been consumed—nah obsessed—ever since.

Every chance I get I try to take another class. I pour over every article and magazine I can get my hands on. I’ve been known to stand in front of the paintings of other artists for 30 minutes trying to figure out their process. If there was a group for Artists Anonymous I would be classified as addicted. I freely admit it and I love it!

The act of putting marks on paper has changed the way I perceive the world. When I look at the sky now or at someone’s face I immediately think, “I could paint that.” Or “ remember that combination of colors.” The sense of beauty that surrounds me is profound and direct. If I can portray even an inkling of that in my work I’m content.