A pared-down face, crowned with daisies. Purity and burden rest together here: simplicity against weight, beauty in restraint. 

This work layers words and fragments, echoing how language lingers inside us. The repeated Dutch phrase, “Woorden blijven binnen” (“Words remain within”), suggests that what is said—and unsaid—shapes us deeply. The stitched lines hint at repair, but also at scars left behind. 

Part childlike, part surreal, this piece carries both whimsy and heaviness. Clouds hover and daisies bloom across the figure, but faint ripples pressed into the paper create the illusion of distant rain. What began as an accident became essential: a reminder that flaws can transform into atmosphere, adding depth and meaning to the work. 

This figure’s broken mouth spits out a jumble of “blah blah,” words without weight, looping endlessly in a speech bubble. One eye is a clock, staring back like a reminder of time wasted, while the other shrinks, ringed with wiry bursts and fatigue. Above it all, ink spills into loose, unruly hair—chaotic energy without grounding. The oversized teeth and fractured features echo today’s noise-filled world, where so many speak at once but little of substance is said. Both absurd and unsettling, the piece reflects on the futility of empty voices in a crowded, distracted age. 

A compass, once a tool for charting direction, is transferred into the portrait. Its spherical form echoes throughout the piece—in the dome-like head, in the chain of circles that dangle from the hand—creating a rhythm of repetition. Yet the charcoal smears blur these boundaries, softening lines and clouding precision, as though vision itself is shifting. The daisies arc across the figure, tender and grounding, counterbalancing the compass’s rigid order with something organic and fleeting. 

The figure emerges through fragments of textured watercoloured paper and painted overlays, daisies at the throat becoming both necklace and lifeline. Haggard eyes and uneven features speak to a restless balance, stitched together through fragility and persistence. 

This watercolor transfer on wood panel depicts one of the final times my parents walked together before my mother's death. My father, stooped with worry and weariness, stays a protective step behind - an ironic reversal of his usual quick pace that had always frustrated my mother. The piece captures the tender choreography of love and care, where roles shift and the one who usually leads learns to follow, ensuring safety in those precious final steps together. 

This mixed-media piece is a reflection on grief, gratitude, and the complexities of loss. The drooping flowers symbolize both the arrival of spring and the weight of farewell, hope intertwined with sorrow. In the background, a print of the hospice where my mother spent her final days serves as a quiet foundation for the piece. That space, though filled with the pain of parting, also brought peace and comfort to my mother and our family. The layered, textured elements echo the emotional turbulence of that time, capturing both the chaos of loss and the quiet moments of grace we held onto.

This watercolor captures a precious final ritual - the simple act of sharing tea together on the morning before my mother's passing. Created from a photograph taken in those last tender hours at hospice, it honors the quiet intimacy of familiar gestures that carry profound weight when we know they are among our last. The cup becomes a vessel not just for tea, but for love, memory, and the bittersweet grace found in ordinary moments made sacred by time's limit. 

A meditation on loss and connection, where intuitively chosen words from an old novel spiral through hair like prayers - "help," "enough," "painful," "beautiful," "agony" - while "taught," "love," "open" hover above the eye, mapping the complex geography of grief and memory.

Mixed Media on Panel

Unhinged reflects the instability of our current moment—politically, globally, and personally. Through layered paper, fragmented text, and expressive marks, the piece captures a sense of unraveling. The word “unhinged” is both a declaration and a question: What happens when the systems we trust—internally or collectively—begin to come apart?

 This work embraces tension and ambiguity. Charcoal lines twist through the chaos, while scraps of language interrupt the surface, suggesting both disruption and dialogue. The collage elements speak to media overload, fractured narratives, and the discomfort of not knowing what comes next.

 Rather than offering resolution, Unhinged holds space for uncertainty. It reflects a world in flux and the resilience found in confronting that flux directly. It is a visual record of the quiet, persistent motion of a country—and a self—navigating disruption.

My son was living in Toronto and apparently had a serious relationship with the city's parking enforcement—they kept sending him love notes! Unfortunately, these 'important notices' kept showing up at our house, driving his dad and me a little crazy with each trip to the mailbox. This little watercolor was my way of dealing with the frustration, while having a bit of fun with the bureaucratic language. Sometimes you just have to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

This piece hatched from a pile of scraps and a lot of curiosity. The bird, built from hand-printed collage papers, has made herself at home in a nest stitched together from old dress patterns—because even birds deserve a bit of vintage flair. The background whispers with image transfers from old magazines, like overheard stories from another time. Nest Things First is a playful nod to finding comfort in the things we piece together—bits of history, creativity, and a good place to land. 

This piece is a bit of a mess, but on purpose. Scraps of receipts, diagrams, textures, and smudges of red all come together like a junk drawer with artistic ambition. At its core is a looping mark—repetitive, searching, unresolved—pulling pieces together but never quite tying the knot. Intentional Chaos lives in that in-between space: where order meets instinct, and where even the leftovers have something to say.