Gallery
This body of work emerged from the depths of grief after the passing of my husband. For a long while, I could not create; the studio sat in silence. When I finally returned, I was astonished to find myself reaching for radiant, heightened colors—sometimes even mixing fluorescents into my paints. Each morning, the walls seemed to beckon me, catching the light and reflecting it back in warmth, until the colors became something I could feel as much as see. In time, I came to understand this as a kind of color therapy, an instinctive way of mending what had been broken.
I was then living just minutes from the Gulf Coast, where the sunsets had long been a quiet ritual in my life. I remember the sky at dusk—the electric brilliance, those impossible hues that flicker into being for only a breath of time before the sun slips away. That fleeting radiance, both tender and fierce, found its way into these paintings.
Each canvas holds a prayer—whispered in color—for my own heart to open again, and for the safe passage of my beloved on his journey into the afterlife.