It’s wild to think this year is already winding down. I’ve been reflecting a lot lately — on what I’ve created, what I’ve learned, and where my art has taken me. This year, I really delved into my botanical era. I’ve always painted landscapes, but over time I started to realize how connected the two are — like two chapters in the same story.
When I look at my landscapes, I see emotion. They’re often moody, full of movement and depth — trees, water, fields, and skies filled with light and shadow. They always seem to lead somewhere, usually toward a horizon, a clearing, a glow in the distance. There’s this sense of traveling through something — almost like walking through a forest.
Then there are my botanical paintings. They feel lighter, more joyful, more alive. They’re bursting with energy and positivity — like finally stepping into a sunlit field after being surrounded by trees.
I’ve realized that, for me, the landscapes hold a lot of what I’ve been working through. They carry my stress, my blue periods, the melancholy moments — times like my knee surgery, breakups, frustrations, and just the heaviness that life sometimes brings. Those emotions seem to live in the layers of paint.
And then the botanicals — they’re what comes after. They’re the release. The joy. The reminder that after the forest comes the field.
It’s something I think about a lot lately: how life constantly moves between the two. There are always forests we have to walk through — the challenges, the unknowns — but there are also fields waiting for us on the other side. And sometimes, we go back and forth between them, again and again.
But each time, I come out of the forest with something new — a lesson, a sense of clarity, or maybe just a deeper appreciation for the sunlight when I finally find it.
As this year wraps up, I’m feeling grateful — for the growth, the struggles, and the light that’s followed. My art has always reflected where I am, and right now, I’m standing in the field, ready to see what new paths lie ahead.
