
Happy Spring!
How is everyone doing? It seems that every week we are hit by — yet another set of — unprecedented times. In the midst of all this, I find myself clinging, more solidly, to the tiny beautiful things.
I’m reminded of this passage in the book of the same name, Tiny Beautiful Things, by Cheryl Strayed:
I have always been interior-world-oriented, for better or for worse. As within, so without, as they say. I cannot help but wonder how — if at all — the external reality of our rights being taken away mirrors our own internal reality (collectively, individually).
In what ways have we stopped believing we have the right to hope, to love, to expand, to have and enjoy both the large and tiny beautiful things? In what ways can we allow ourselves those joys? In what ways can that allowance ripple out to create positive change in a negative world?
The past few weeks I have found myself walking, with the ease that comes with warmer weather, along the sidewalks of NYC. Tulips are sprouting in every box and on every sidewalk. Parklets are going back up and couples, old and new, are chatting over glasses of chilled wine. The world feels like it is waking up. There is so much joy, despite everything. Things are finally blooming.

A few weeks ago, I heard Mary Gabriel speak at New York Studio School, on the females of the Abstract Expressionist movement, who worked the similarly unprecedented times of World War II. At the end she asked (paraphrased):
What is the artist’s role when the world is burning?
How do you justify making your art when people are dying?
Painting when you could be protesting?
You have to believe the role of the artist is to capture the collective’s conscience, the reaction of its spirit.
I truly believe art sustains us — that is brings us hope, that it exists as a vehicle for connection both between ourselves and with a larger spirit. On the surface a painting might just be a tiny beautiful thing, but it represents so much more: the beauty that is our birthright, our essence, and our service. I aim to capture that which I think can never not exist, even amidst a burning world.
In that spirit, I am delighted to share 6 new works via Tacit Collective, an online art gallery and art consultancy dedicated to women artists. I was so excited when Tacit’s founder, Nuria Madrenas, reached out to me last fall to work on a collection with them. Based in Canada, Tacit has a lovely curation of emerging female artists from around the world — I encourage you to take a look!
My Tacit works were mostly painted this past January, in the dead of winter, with a eye towards and a hope for the brightness of spring. They feature a more high-chroma palette than my previous work and dive into one of my favorite motifs — the vessel.

For the first time I’ve also made pages from my sketchbook available. Filled with my personal notes, thumbnails, and ideas for paintings, these are a more affordable ($300) and more intimate collectors’ items that can be ordered in a beautiful shadowbox frame for your home.

All of these works can be collected directly via Tacit — you can view my collection here. I’m looking forward to sharing more soon. :) And as always, if you have any questions or just want to say hi, don’t hesitate to reply to this e-mail.
All my love and with the audacity of a spring bloom,
A