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Creative work is often romanticized as inspiration, color, freedom, and beautiful finished paintings hanging beneath gallery lights. The reality is usually much messier. There are deadlines, logistics, wrapping artwork, carrying canvases, editing presentations, answering emails, promoting events, making decisions, second-guessing those decisions, and trying to remember whether you actually ate lunch somewhere in the middle of it all.

Preparing artwork for an exhibition involves far more than placing paintings into a vehicle and driving toward the gallery. Each piece must be inspected, documented, labeled, protected, & wrapped. Corners need special attention. Large canvases need to be moved carefully. Glassine, plastic, tape, labels, blankets, & more tape begin taking over the studio. With twenty-three paintings waiting for me, including several mammoth canvases, I quickly realized this was not a job I s

Have you ever caught your mind spinning a frightening story about the future—only to discover that the story wasn’t true? Our minds are astonishingly creative. Unfortunately, they don’t always use that creativity in our favor. Given an unanswered question or an uncertain future, the mind can quickly fill the empty space with everything that might go wrong.

There is something wonderfully playful about an exhibition devoted to small works. A painting does not have to be large to carry energy, emotion, or meaning. Sometimes a smaller format draws us closer and asks us to notice the details we might otherwise miss. Being selected for this exhibition is meaningful to me for several reasons. Second Street Gallery has long been a space I admire, and Charlottesville is a community where I hope to continue building relationships...

I may have given her a painting, but she gave me something more. She reminded me why I paint.

Four Paintings for the Journey of Becoming Finding your light is only the beginning. Last week, we explored how lasting change begins within us. We reflected on the importance of choosing love, cultivating joy, and remembering our shared humanity. Those values form a beautiful foundation—but eventually life reminds us that living them isn't always easy. Reality arrives. Dreams take longer than we hoped. Our bodies become tired. Our hearts get bruised. The path forward feels u

What if changing the world doesn't begin with a grand gesture? What if it begins with something much quieter? We often imagine that lasting change arrives through sweeping movements, powerful speeches, or historic moments. While those moments certainly matter, I've become convinced that the greatest transformations begin much closer to home—in the small, everyday choices we make about how we show up for ourselves and for one another. That belief became the heartbeat behind my

"Art has the power to remind us that, beneath our differences, we are more alike than we realize." Sometimes a painting begins with a color. Sometimes it begins with a memory. And sometimes, an entire series arrives all at once. That was Illuminate the World. Over the course of just six weeks, I created twelve large-scale paintings unlike anything I had made before. Instead of working on one canvas at a time, I worked on all twelve simultaneously, moving from painting to pain

There are moments in life when the world feels especially heavy. We all know those seasons. The headlines are loud. The problems feel endless. The future feels uncertain. And if we're not careful, it becomes easy to believe that darkness is winning. A few years ago, I found myself asking a simple question: What if the most powerful thing we can do isn't focus on the darkness at all? What if our role is to become more intentional about creating light? That question became the

Today is one of those days that feels almost surreal. As I sit down to write this, I find myself reflecting on the many twists, turns, leaps of faith, and unexpected opportunities that have led to this moment. Tonight, my work will be featured as part of Where Art Lives, a unique exhibition that transforms a stunning luxury home in Vienna, Virginia, into a living gallery—and I am absolutely over the moon. For years, I dreamed of seeing my artwork not only in galleries but in

Everything feels like it’s moving quickly. Ideas. Opportunities. Energy. Growth. Faster than I can fully name. But instead of trying to control it… I’m choosing to stay open. To trust it. To let it unfold.

Whether you find yourself in an “And Yet” season… Or standing “On the Verge” of something new… Here’s what I know for sure: The garden doesn’t grow for the likes. It grows because growth is natural. Because becoming is inevitable. Because something within you refuses to stay buried. So if you’re ready to let your creativity rise to the surface… I’d love to meet you there.

Midlife transition rarely announces itself with a siren. More often, it arrives quietly—through a subtle restlessness, a sense that what used to fit no longer does, or a growing desire for peace, meaning, and reconnection with yourself. You’re not necessarily in crisis, but you may feel unsteady in a way that’s hard to explain. This in-between season is what I call the messy middle : the space between who you’ve been and what life is asking of you next. What makes the messy m

In a world filled with noise, uncertainty, and constant distraction, finding peace can feel impossible. After attending the closing event for the Walk for Peace in Washington, DC, contemporary mixed media artist Precious Burger shares a simple mindfulness practice—and how breath, presence, and creativity can help you reconnect, find calm, and create from a place of grounded peace.

While daily creation is already part of my life, this challenge gently nudged me back into something I hadn’t been prioritizing lately — my sketchbook practice.

As the calendar turns, I find myself filled with gratitude for a year that stretched me, held me, and reminded me what truly matters. 2025 was a year of connection—across cities, studios, friendships, and communities. From travels through New Orleans, Miami, Hollywood, Myrtle Beach, Bethany Beach, and Atlanta, to unforgettable moments at Glen Echo and my solo exhibition at the Inova Schar Cancer Center, I was continually reminded that art is not just about what hangs on the w

Making art will ask you to tell the truth. It will push you past what feels comfortable. It will ask you to show up, even when you’re not ready. And if you’re willing to stay in the discomfort, it will reflect you back to yourself.

These paintings carry stories about identity, hidden truths, and the evolving roles we play in our lives. They’re rich with organic texture, intuitive line work, and layered meaning.

This week tested me. Between personal struggles and creative challenges, I found myself tangled in fear and self-doubt. It’s a vulnerable place—one that many artists (and humans) know all too well.

We live in a world that encourages masks. Polished feeds. Perfect answers. But art? Art doesn’t care about your filters. That’s the power and radical truth about art. That’s the power of story.