About
Painting, for me, is a meditative act—a way of staying grounded and present. Joan Mitchell once said, "Painting is a means of feeling 'living,'" and that rings true in my bones. In the studio, the noise quiets. Each brushstroke becomes a kind of breathing—a rhythm that draws me deeper into the work itself. Painting is not just expression, but relationship: between what is seen and the one who sees.
Process
I immerse myself in the mountains as often as I can—to hike, sketch, paint, listen, look, and breathe. Back in the studio, I begin each painting in layers, starting with gestural marks, then building an underpainting in vibrant color. My process is quiet and intuitive, rooted in presence and shaped by place. I believe art is a kind of medicine—a healing balm that opens space for peace, reverence, and a deeper remembering of what holds us.
Education & Development
I earned my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Graphic Design from the Corcoran College of Art and Design at The George Washington University. I later deepened my studies in design, painting, drawing, and color theory at the Schule für Gestaltung Basel in Switzerland. Today, I work as a professional graphic designer supporting community healthcare across Boulder, Broomfield, Adams, and Gilpin counties—bringing the same intention for healing into my design work.
Estes, Cabin Window
2025
30 x 17 inches
Mixed media on canvas
Artist’s Statement
There are places that hold us long after we leave them.
Held by the Land is rooted in the high country of Colorado—where my mother and generations before her spent their summers walking trails, wading streams, and returning to the same alpine ridges year after year. These places live in my bones. When I paint, I return to them—not to replicate what I see, but to feel what remains. A line of slope, the breath of wind in the trees, the stillness that lingers just before snowfall.
Each piece begins in silence. I build thin layers of paint, then carve back into them, letting earlier gestures remain—like traces of weather, or something remembered in the body. The shapes stay simple: a bend of light, a ridge line, the sense of something moving just beneath the surface. I want there to be space for you to rest, to breathe, to feel what you've been carrying settle for a while.
These paintings are made as offerings, as medicine. They come from time spent in places that heal and hold us—places that remember. They carry the imprint of my lineage, but they are also meant for you. Whether you stand before Shifting Ground or hold a small painted study in your hands, I hope something opens inside you. A sense of grounding. A return to the sacred in the everyday. A quiet knowing that we are never alone—we are always, in some way, held by the land.