What I Didn't Say — and What She Already Knew
As usual, my experience at Lyndhurst this year did not disappoint. Sales may have been a bit quieter than last year, but that's not what I'm here to talk about — I'm talking about connection, discovery, and truth.
I am far from an extrovert, but I find so much community and connection at fairs and markets — talking to different people, hearing your stories. And sometimes sharing my own.
A few folks over the weekend asked how long I've been painting. The truth is, I've been painting my whole life — but I'm honest that I only really started painting again in earnest after the birth of my daughter, about four years ago. Usually that's the extent of what I share in the course of small talk, but the truth runs a little deeper than that.
Lost in the cruel, disorienting fog of postpartum depression, I had lost sight of who I was — what brought me joy. I knew I used to make things; I knew I used to love that. And so I searched the closet for something I could use to create. I found a plastic bag of acrylic paints.
People often ask where the various pieces are set — Glencoe, Nantucket, Løkken. Occasionally they ask more about my subject matter.
One couple, with grown children around my age, asked about my work, and I gave them my usual answer: that painting postpartum, during the tail end of the pandemic, had me painting both my favorite places and places I was longing to travel to. It was only in looking back that I could see the true throughline.
The woman sighed and nodded knowingly. "Postpartum," she said.
I had mentioned nothing about depression — but she knew. She shared that she had experienced postpartum depression herself, and that her daughter had as well. Her daughter had since started a support group for women experiencing postpartum depression, welcoming mothers regardless of their children's ages — from infants to young children.
"You're doing great," she said. "Keep going."
I cried and thanked her.
This has been a wonderful year of creation for me — a year of deep feeling. I've been painting more, finding great joy in the continued excavation and exploration of my own internal landscape. I'm thrilled to have a collection of seven pieces on display at Rushing Duck Brewing Company through the end of June 2026, and I hope you'll stop by to see the continued progression of my work.
Just Beyond Artist’s Statement
“I came back to painting after the birth of my daughter, at a moment when I needed to remember who I was.
Water kept appearing in my work — not by plan, but by instinct. The sea, for me, has always been a place of power and stillness at once. A place where the noise quiets and something essential rises to the surface. I painted toward it the way you move toward something you've always known.
Look closely at these landscapes and you'll find a house in the near distance — set apart, tucked into the horizon. I've thought a lot about what those houses mean. A destination. A sanctuary. A place where someone, perhaps, is waiting quietly inside. There is something in that image that feels true to me: the longing for beauty and refuge in equal measure, and the belief that they can coexist.
This collection is about that coexistence. The vastness of open water. The intimacy of home. And the space — sometimes tender, sometimes wild — that lives between them.”
I hope my work brings you peace — and that it also transports you deeper into the story of you. That you discover more of who you truly are.
Come see the work in person now through July 1st:
Rushing Duck Brewing Company
2 Greycourt Avenue
Chester, NY 10918
Wednesday 4–8 pm
Thursday 4–9 pm
Friday 12–9 pm
Saturday 12–9 pm
Sunday 12–6 pm
Closed Mondays & Tuesdays