What will ambition do for me that the fox, appearing suddenly

at the top of the field,

her eyes sharp and confident as she stared into mine,

has not already done?

What countries, what visitations,

what pomp

would satisfy me as thoroughly as Blackwater Woods

on a sun-filled morning, or, equally, in the rain?

Excerpt from "Am I Not Among The Early Risers"

 by Mary Oliver

Marta Chruchwell wrote this article about my work for the Joplin Globe.

In other news, one of my friends sent me this photo of one of my prints ("...and you will be like God", bottom) hanging in her OBGYN's office. It's always fun to see where my work ends up after being purchased.

 I have a little plein air piece (upper right-hand corner) in the ArtCentral "Verdant" show in Carthage, MO.

February. Oil on Linen Plein Air. 2022

I tried to take advantage of the (melting) snow yesterday for winter plein air painting. It was a pretty nice day out, but I still could have used some toe warmers by the end of the afternoon.

Fungi spotted in the wild

$10 per hr

Kansas City, MO

Winter polypores

Antjea Wolff wrote this really nice article about my work for our local newspaper, The Morning Sun. 

Shed. Watercolor, India Ink, Gold Leaf, and Gouache. 14” x 21”. 2022.

Also, here's a little rainbow layer study, one of the "dark rainbows" that isn't so dark.

Elation. Watercolor and Gold Leaf. 10” x 13”. 2022.

For my birthday, we visited Wonders of Wildlife in Springfield. Aquariums (and more generally, animals) are basically my favorite thing on earth.

We mined for quartz crystals. They are beautiful.

Some photos from Hot Springs, Arkansas and Hot Springs National Park.

“Are we home yet?” - doilies made by my grandmother

My grandparents' house in Ohio has always encapsulated the intangible feeling of home for me. It has a smell that I've never been able to pin down to one thing.... like a musty library basement, but mixed with scents of Dial soap, coffee, and White Diamonds perfume. They lived in their home since the 1950's, and it's one of the few physical places that's been constant throughout my whole life. Sadly, my Grandparents both suffered strokes earlier this year (one day apart from each other, strangely) and had to move into a nursing home. Their children (my mom and uncle) are in the process of selling their house to pay for their care, so we recently brought back some of their things to Kansas.

I've always struggled to feel a sense of "home". Maybe it was moving around a lot as a kid... maybe it's due to lacking a sense of permanence. I don't really know why. I've always done little things to try to make my house feel more like my grandparents', but the effort has mostly been futile. After bringing their things back, objects that feel magical in my Grandparents' home are suddenly transformed into just "stuff" the moment they arrive in mine. Maybe the magical component is my Grandparents themselves.

Milkweed. Watercolor and India Ink. 22" x 14. 2021.

I'm a sucker for a good pun... "Milkweed". This one could also accurately be called "Size #0 Paintbrush". Haha. I'm looking forward to working in a looser style after I finish up some of these tight, illustrative pieces that are in progress.

Colostrum. Watercolor, India Ink, and Gouache. 10" x 13". 2021.