Gallery

2026

Bodacious Peonies Some paintings become more than images. They become places we can return to. Every summer, my garden bursts into bloom with extravagant pink peonies. I wait for them each year with the same excitement I felt as a child, watching the peonies in my father's garden slowly unfurl their tightly wrapped petals. I remember the tiny ants busily gathering the sweet nectar from the buds—a quiet partnership with nature, protecting the blossoms from aphids before the flowers opened into their breathtaking beauty. To me, peonies are the scent of summer itself. Their fragrance carries notes of rose, honey, freesia, and citrus, filling the air with memories that seem to exist outside of time. When the flowers bloom, I always arrange them in a ceramic pitcher I discovered decades ago in an antique shop in Aspen, Colorado. While my family spent their days skiing, I wandered through bookstores, antique shops, and cafés, happily lingering over books and lattes, collecting small treasures that would one day become memories themselves. I still remember watching my family return each afternoon, cheeks glowing from the cold, excitedly recounting their adventures on the mountain. Every summer, as I fill that pitcher with freshly cut peonies, those memories return. The pitcher becomes more than an object. It becomes a vessel for family, for joy, and for time that can never truly be lost. That is why I painted Bodacious Peonies. I wanted to preserve not simply the flowers, but the emotions they awaken—the sunlight filtering through delicate petals, the fleeting beauty of a bloom at its peak, and the remarkable way our senses can transport us back to the people and places we love. Now, instead of waiting for the brief flowering season each year, I experience that same feeling every morning as the painting catches the changing light in my home. Sitting with a cup of tea or breakfast, I find myself smiling as those memories bloom all over again. The painting has become another vessel for memory, extending the season far beyond summer. This original painting will remain part of my personal collection because it tells my own story. However, I have chosen to release a very limited edition of only ten museum-quality giclée prints, each individually remarked by hand. My hope is that they bring more than vibrant color into a home. I hope they become part of someone else's story—a daily reminder to pause, to notice beauty, and to cherish the quiet moments that often become the memories we treasure most. I've come to believe that the richest things we own are rarely the most valuable. They are the things that awaken our senses: the fragrance of a flower, the warmth of sunlight through a window, the familiar shape of an old pitcher, or the memory that unexpectedly returns when we least expect it. These are the moments that remind us what it means to be fully alive.