There is something synchronistic about the way of nature and the energy in my studio this time of year. My morning walking path is still laden with ice and snow in some areas, sopping wet and mucky in others, and though winter has her icy grip on us, I see evidence of spring everywhere I look…

I’ve noticed there’s this little phenomenon that occurs after I’ve been preparing for a big event or an exhibit. It’s like a natural liminal pause I take between the preparation and the “big day.” I wanted to take a moment to pay homage to the importance of it and the way it spoke to me just this week…

If you follow me on Instagram, you know I recently posted a photo of a piece of art that I took quite some time to work on. It was much different from the soft, fast, loose washes I usually find myself in…

This week has been full of gathering inspiration for new art. We have some fresh snow up here in Two Harbors (hopefully more coming this weekend — fingers crossed). Snowshoe treks and fresh mornings have been full of new treats for my eyeballs.

I find that when I need to restock my creative well, it’s time to do a lot of wandering…

Today, I release a new body of work into the world. Playing with Snow is a series of small loose watercolor landscapes that capture the solace of winter. The journey of creating them has played a powerful part in inspiring new life into me when I was desperately trying to reconnect with my creative practice…

It wouldn’t be an uncommon scene for you to find my studio neatly tidied. The surface of my workbench wiped clean of paint splatters, new paintings stacked neatly in a pile, all instruments at a right angle, jars of paintbrushes on a shelf, watercolor blocks stacked by order of size. This is especially true when I am expecting company. I also try to practice keeping my workspace “ready” for projects. That usually means neatness.

Currently, this is not the case…

My start to this new year has been a bit slow and languid. I kicked off 2025 with a cold that has made her home in my body and is lingering despite her posted eviction notice.

Although, the stuffy sinuses and occasional cough bring me some discomfort, the forced rest has been more than welcome. It’s felt like something my body has been needing for quite a long while so rather than fighting it, I’ve found acceptance a much easier route…

It was Spencer’s birthday wish to spend a couple days in the woods, unplugged from work life and plugged-in to the natural world. We promised our phones would stay locked away in a cabinet for the weekend and we vowed only to take pictures on my little CampSnap camera.

I don’t know about you, but the second I become unreachable, an overwhelming sense of peace washes over me…

I spent last weekend covered in sawdust. By the end of it, I had an entirely new studio setup. Some of you who know me well, know that during the summer months, I move my home studio into my 3-season porch (although, living in Northern Minnesota, it’s really only like one season)…

The summer market season has come to a close but I have something very exciting to share with all of you and honestly, it feels like the perfect way to move into this slower and cozier season…

The new North & Shore Maker’s Spotlight exhibit is now up in the hallways of the Enger Lofts Marketplace. This exhibit runs from October through December of 2024, just in time for the holiday season! My work is being featured alongside the talented Sarah Kreuter’s Woodcuts, so you’ll see a combination of both her work and mine displayed together!...

Sometimes unexpected things happen and there is nothing we can do but accept them as gracefully as possible…

Of course I sent you a newsletter last week detailing how this market season has felt like a marathon and the last three miles were uphill… And then, in the middle of the night before the first day of The Lake Superior 20/20 Studio & Art Tour, I got sick....

I went out to walk the land this morning and I could see my breath. The dew was heavy on my boots and as far as my eyes could see, lush greens have been replaced by warm golds, umbers, and ochres. Though the mornings are growing colder, as soon as the sun finds her place in the sky, the earth feels warm once again.

This time of year always feels like this strange liminal world where we hang in between summer and autumn. The equinox marked our transition this past Sunday. We’re in harvest. Grabbing the last of the tomatoes from the vine, checking the weather reports for possible frost.

For me, life has become increasingly synonymous with seasonal living every year. Summers are abundant and bustling with markets and art fairs until the end of September when things begin to wind down...

This past weekend, Spencer, Rudder, and I were driving back from Trempealeau, Wisconsin after a weekend with family on the Mississippi River. I love riding up and down those rolling Wisconsin hills. The driftless area never ceases to take my breath away. As I was gazing out the window, I gasped, “Look at all the flowers!” There was an open field, bursting with daisies, buttercups, hawkweed, and the way the light was dancing over the field in the late afternoon sun made me want to capture it and take it with me forever.

It was in this moment that I realized something...

This past weekend truly surprised me in more ways than one.

I attended my second Blueberry Arts Festival in Ely, MN. This is a big show. It’s 3 days, which always feels like a bit of a marathon, and last year, my first year, I won first place in the arts category (the blue ribbon still hangs proudly in my studio), and my highest sales were at this event last year, so I went into this weekend with really high hopes…

I’m sitting in my porch this morning, the sun streaming in, gearing up to take on another “pack-up-load-in-setup” day. Soon Spencer, Rudder and I will be well into our routine of packing everything into the trailer and the Jeep to head up to Ely for my first three-day festival weekend of the season. I have a whole bunch of new additions to my booth and I’m so excited to put it all together!

This past week flew by. I received my first bulk shipment of unfinished frames and spent the majority of last weekend staining, sanding, and varnishing…

The Monday after a festival weekend always carries a very specific feeling — some level of exhaustion and this strange emptiness that arrives upon the completion of something that has taken much time and energy for which to prepare. Another event down, a few more to go. There is sometimes a feeling of gratitude and security and sometimes a feeling of disappointment, such is the artist’s life.

But today as I sit in my studio, sipping my coffee and admiring the piles of framed originals and plastic totes filled with prints and cards, I’m overflowing with gratitude. This past weekend filled me to my brim and surprised me beyond my wildest expectations…

I’m coming to the realization that in every artist’s journey, we reach a point where we get bored…

It’s March now, which means if you’re in the Northern Hemisphere, you might be looking forward to spring being just around the corner. For the second year in a row now for me, spring means market and art fair season is already creeping up rather quickly.

I’ll have to admit, I’m still new to this schedule, the ebb and flow of quiet time followed by what feels like pretty intense hustle. I don’t have the planning and business side of things very streamlined — I’m sure I will when I’m more seasoned. I usually make my print orders at the last minute, and I’m matting and framing pieces right up until we pack up the Jeep to head to wherever the next event is. Or I’ve decided that this particular piece has to come with me and now the night before we leave I’m making last minute adjustments.

Even though I’m mentally preparing myself for my first pop-up of 2024 this coming weekend, this spring feels a little different than it did last year.

It’s the end of February, which means I’m navigating my way out of the throes of winter and all that darkness and time diving inward has offered my creative practice. January through March have become an annual period of experimentation — mostly because there is nothing else to do. However, with experimentation comes new struggle. I’ve learned the hard way that before I could ever dream of becoming a master, I must first play the fool.

a poem

like swans on a lake, it arrives

unexpectedly

and takes with it my breath…