Visions of Self 2026

The Seeker is a woman who actively develops her intellect, talents, and spirituality. She is watched over by her ancestors who have passed on (the eyes above her head). She overcomes adversity (represented by the red demon eye without a body), and has a dove on her shoulder as her loyal guide and companion. The music portal symbolizes the first time I felt music with my whole soul performing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in Germany. The woman in the painting appreciates her opportunities and the precious time she has on earth.

El nopal is a symbol I associate with my mother and the pain she has caused my sisters and me. Crying through the storm represents the generational trauma passed down through our family. Trauma that is rarely spoken about, often swept under the rug, ignored, and dismissed. It’s a cycle my sisters and I constantly struggle to break, facing resistance at every turn, even from our own mother. A woman who has never been able to heal from her own pain. Much of that pain has been shared among us, creating a quiet, sorrowful understanding. All we can do at times is cry out into the void. A cry of frustration but we refuse to let it consume us. We must keep going and find a way to end this cycle so it doesn’t continue with our children, or theirs.

Part of a triptych exploring grief and my self therapy for a recent major loss. I am in the process of regaining the richness of life that I have been missing, facing the emptiness that stares at me in the mirror, and reclaiming my self that has now been transformed. I am attempting to “metabolize suffering into something beautiful and ultimately sacred”.

This self-portrait is meant to analyze my own identity as a woman. Using religious iconography, I call back to the Virgin Mary. In this portrait I have placed myself in this position. I took inspiration from the portraits of King Henry VIII’s wives when it came to the clothing. It’s meant to analyze the social expectations for women; ultra-femininity is associated with purity. Virgin Mary is revered in Christianity for her virginity. This ideal prevails in all aspects of our social lives, so deeply ingrained. In our media, women in the hero’s story are either helpless, or the romantic interest taking the man out of his deep state of sadness. Woman then becomes an idealized concept. It all feels like a performance which is played into with the porcelain masks I added. This painting is meant to play with that idea, playing into the game. The heart is what is sacred in people, it illuminates to show true divinity. The pearls play into the “pure” touch as it is often utilized to symbolize such. The ribbons unraveling such thoughts and ideas that have been perpetuated to us as women.

I spent many hours in the library of CCAC when I was a student there. I was researching the techniques of the old masters as they were not being taught anywhere that I knew of in the 1970’s. This is my sixth entry into Visions of the Self and I thought that this time I would take an approach like my earlier methods of building up a painting with layers. After I laid the first two passes down, I decided to stop and leave it, as it had something fresh and true about me, as an aging woman artist.

This painting grew out of a simple morning journey: walking our one-year-old dog, Ashlyn, through Ahwahnee Park. At this age, everything is new. The walk becomes less about exercise and more about patience for all of us—learning to slow down, to pause, to let curiosity lead. Ashlyn stops often. She listens. She watches. In following her pace, we’re reminded to soften ours.

These early mornings are peaceful – The light is gentle, the park still quiet, and the day hasn’t yet made its demands. Sometimes we talk, mostly we don’t. Either way, the walk becomes a shared moment of calm—an unspoken agreement to simply be present.

While this scene is personal, it’s also meant to be open. Anyone can find themselves here—walking alone, with a partner, with a dog, or simply moving through a moment of quiet reflection. The path, the light, the figures are not specific so much as familiar. They hold space for solitude, for companionship, and for the kind of peace that comes from slowing down long enough to notice it.

This painting is less about a single walk and more about the calm that comes from the tranquility of it.

I am always exploring different aspects of my being… past, present, or future, and it’s led me to connecting with my Celtic Roots. In this painting, I am depicting a version of myself sitting in front of an ancient trellis formed by tree roots into Celtic knots. It represents a gateway to a dimension of intrigue, magic and dragons. This is unexplored territory, so the figure holding the dragon is about to embark on a journey of discovering a world that has often been in my dreams and visions.

Portals to Equilibrium is a painting about balancing the many details of life. I was inspired by the concept of “memento mori” (remember you must die); each portal represents an important element in my life. For me the complexity of living intentionally and achieving balance requires constant adjustment and reflection.

This piece plays with the idea that part of the role of the artist in art-making is being receptive to, and a vessel for, the imagination. For me, the crux of painting is the dialogue between imagery from the unconscious and my conscious decisions about how to bring those images to life in the world. While some of these dialogues are playful, at other times the dialogue may lead me to depict socio-political undercurrents and psychological influences below the surface of mainstream consciousness that might be calling for humanity’s attention at this particular moment, or the dialogue itself might be a sort of alchemical healing vessel for either personal or collective imbalances.

Every year I do a self portrait for my birthday. This year has been particularly stressful. My annual portrait reflects how overwhelmed and frazzled I am feeling with everything that is going on in my life and in the world.

This piece uses scraps and discards to create a new life, one that joyfully expresses what it should be like to be a woman on an average day in her life. A little upbeat, a little sparkle, a lot of attitude. I’m not sure when we’ll get back to being able to do this without looking over our shoulders to make sure someone isn’t getting ready to knock us down a peg.

I spent a lot of time working on the smaller elements – the skin, especially. All people, all women, are created equal, and figuring out how to successfully express an “every woman” aesthetic that encapsulates all of us, without veering into stereotypes or specifics, took the most time to get to where I feel the piece does represent any woman who wants to see herself in a joyful place.

I have learnt how to smile when I am breaking. I have learnt how to set up a mask of presence when I’m at my worse.

As an architect, a traveler, a mother and an artist, I am expected to be steady, capable, creative and strong. So I hide to hold. I perform the version of myself the world can handle.

There are many times when I spiral into a deep dark space of pain. A space where there is no light, no smile, no happiness.

This drawing is a representation of my state of mind. It is not a performance, it is the truth I rarely show. It is the weight of pretending, the loneliness of carrying it alone, and the desire to be seen without the smile.

February 22, 1996, I enlisted in the Unites States Army and gave the oath, “I, do solemnly swear, (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America, against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” Thirty years have now passed. While I love my country deeply, at the moment, I am not sure I recognize it as the same country I swore to defend.

After a period of stillness in my creativity, I needed to dive a little deeper into why I ever felt the want or need to paint. I had to give myself permission to express some inner feelings. This is a life size painting I did purely for myself, for the process. I encourage any artist to paint themselves at a tender age as part of a self discovery for their creative side.

A Study in Reflection explores self-perception as something layered and shaped by time. The figure (me) appears only partially, filtered through aged glass and surrounded by surfaces marked by wear. The photograph resists clarity, suggesting that the self is not something fully known to oneself.

The weathered window functions as both barrier and mirror. Its peeling paint and clouded surface speak to memory, erosion, and the accumulation of lived experience. What remains visible is not a portrait in the traditional sense, but a trace: a presence altered by distance, reflection, and material decay.

Within Visions of Self, this work considers identity not as a fixed image, but as a process—one shaped by what obscures us as much as by what reveals us. The photograph asks the viewer to linger in uncertainty, where the act of looking becomes an act of introspection.

IN LATE 2024 I was diagnosed with a medical condition that has resulted in a complete and permanent loss of hearing in my right ear, along with equilibrium problems.

Although I did not suffer the overwhelming depression and alienation endured by Van Gogh, (ultimately causing him to cut off his ear) my condition certainly affected me and my outlook on life. I now have an even deeper empathy for people with disabilities. It takes bravery to navigate each day without all of your senses intact.

Thanks to my father, finding humor in the challenges of life has always been a coping mechanism for me. When I recalled Van Gogh’s painting ( “self-portrait with a bandaged ear”) I had to chuckle. I knew I had to take on the challenge. It was a lot of fun trying to replicate his painting and replace his face with mine. Nothing like being in the same category as one of the great masters!

In these strange and dire times, I must turn again and again to my personal conviction that most people are basically goodhearted, with compassion and kindness for others. To function at all on the days when it seems we are living in a nightmare I could not have imagined, I remind myself that hope rises in the human heart, always in the darkest of times. And this hope, with courage and hard work, will ultimately see us into a world I can recognize and believe in again.

This is a woman who is seen emerging from a cave. She is dressed as a warrior, wearing boots, camo, masked and carrying a sword. There are a variety of illustrative and symbolic additions to this piece, supporting her adventure. For example on both sides of her are drawn Easter Lilies which represent rebirth. In the corners below are placed two chickens. Chickens are widely known and revered in many cultures for fertility, nurturing and courage. Above her is a large piece of patterned flour-de-lis paper. This flower symbolizes purity and virtue.

This woman walks out of a dark cave filled with confusion and despair and is seen strong and confident ready to defend her new found clarity and whole self. I have found myself in this same state and I see this image as a vision not only for myself as a woman, but for many other women as well.

Every year in fall I visit the Aspen on the East side of Yosemite. I am most happy standing among the yellowing Aspen, taking in their glow.

This past year has tested our sanity, our values, and our ability to get along with our neighbors. I believe we are more alike than not and hope for a better world for everyone. Yo Bubba is an olive branch that recognizes shared humanity and values.

When considering one’s mental state needs to rest, this is my most comfortable chair. To be cozy my knitted vest from Mom is what rests on back of chair. The inspiring Artistic pillow is used to ease my back. And, I love the urban legend that red is a color associated with power, so sitting on the red pillow, as a woman is needed.

We cannot predict where our journey will take us or how it will end. We cannot predict the trials, tribulations, nor ill health we’ll encounter. With dedication, hardwork, discipline, faith, trust, and love we will rise each day & put our best foot forward giving our all to each endeavor.

Pictured: Sister Mary Wilma(Tatina) O.S.B age 18 as a 2nd grade teacher, and me at age 63 when I designed, created, & installed these seven 5×12 foot stained glass windows in the chapel where I once prayed and worshipped. Journeying through 22 teaching years, 44 years as stained glass artist and painter.

And still my art journey continues. Each day I rise look up and say “Thank You.”

This ceramic work, fired using the Raku technique (with live fire), creates a vision through childhood imagination and adult self awareness. Growing in ascetic and socialist environment, the figure of the beauty queen appeared to me as a symbol of radiance, glamour and perfection. She embodied a flawless world, distant from everyday life. She was unreachable, and still, I dreamt of becoming one, or at least living in her universe.

The beauty queen’s traditional aspiration to bring “world peace” resonated deeply in my childhood in Israel, shaped by conflicts, where such hopes felt idealistic and implausible. With time, the glamour associated with this figure has faded… What remains is a more critical gaze—one that questions the promise of perfection and the myths attached to it—yet this gaze is tempered by compassion for the child who once believed in a harmonious, ideal, peaceful world.

The cracks and unpredictability of raku firing mirror this shift: from idealized fantasy to a fragmented, reflective understanding of the self.

With all the ‘noise’ going on around us, especially in the news, it is easy to become disheartened. I must remain hopeful that goodness will prevail. Inshallah kheir is an Arabic term that encompasses that hope.

My dad passed away this year. Grief is something that currently defines me at the moment. As he was laying sick in the hospital, it were these frogs, among other creatures that aided this grief I felt. I chose to contribute this image as a portrait of myself because not only does grief define me, but gratitude as well. This image is one of a series based on the 12 gifts that one receives during the song the 12 days of Christmas. On the 10th day, she received ten leap frog leaping for which she, or me, was grateful.

This image is a series of mostly water color paintings combined using digital media. Other medias used to create the image was color pencil, and ink.

In response to the weight of the modern world, I find myself retreating into classic film and television for comfort. I know intellectually that no era was ever truly “better,” yet these imagined pasts offer distance, quiet, and emotional shelter. In this piece, I step into the role of a silent film actress, with exaggerated expression to echo a time when great drama was conveyed with silent words: When Will We Be Saved?

In this image I’m wrapped in darkness, and each step forward requires more energy than I can sometimes give. In my 62 years on earth I’ve never felt anything quite like this. I have to adjust, and I have to survive.

This acrylic painting I created while I was suffering with severe anxiety. This is what I felt during that time.

This piece is part of a larger body of recent work titled “Debris Archive.” The work explores my personal journey as a new mother navigating through a current world running on consumerism and a planet being irreversibly altered by it. Through a process of debris collection, reflection, experimentation, manipulation and transformation, I have used common consumer debris to challenge not only the self-portrait but to challenge the habits of convenience and consumerism. I invite self-reflection and awareness in all my pieces, and this one begs the question; will my curtains outlive my child? Will my clothes outlive me? Will these plastic walls remember me?

In this age of seeing the world through our many screens, my piece is a reminder to Look Up and use our vision and other senses to experience life as the living beings we are. It is a shame to miss out on life’s best moments because we are focused on getting a post-worthy photo instead of being alive to whatever scene we are in – in this case that is the much anticipated annual phenomena at Horsetail Falls in Yosemite National Park. Most of the world will never see it in person, so if you do get that chance, I suggest you get your shot (if you must) then put the phone down and experience it!

This portrait captures the moment in 1999 when I changed from able-bodied to chronically ill. Before illness, I only knew health. Within a single day, my body crossed a threshold it would never return from. Illness came suddenly and severely. I thought I would recover, but I never did. One life ended, and another began. The layered forms in this piece make the invisible visible. These are viruses that still haunt my body. This is the ongoing landscape of my life.

Chronic illness is a lifelong shapeshifter. Not shapeshifting as a mythic transformation or a supernatural power. It is an ongoing process of being changed again and again. Each flare, unpredictable shift, and new symptom reshapes my body and myself. What once felt familiar no longer behaves the same way. Pain changes how I live in my body. Fatigue sets new limits for each day. What used to be stable now shifts without warning. To live with chronic illness is to be reshaped over and over. My shapeshifting is invisible, but it is felt down to my bones.

People often want a simple story of resilience, one that fits inside a smile. So I say I’m fine. I mention my art or my garden. I leave out the exhaustion, the daily struggle with my body, and the unseen effort it takes just to get through each day, much less create. Saying “I’m fine” is easier than trying to explain illnesses that are invisible and misunderstood. The truth is complicated and uncomfortable… but it is my reality.

This image explores lineage not as ancestry, but as the lineage of illness I live with. I hold the imprint of everything that has happened. Each new diagnosis adds to that lineage, shaping the versions of me who endured, adapted, and struggled without knowing what the future would hold. Their survival, even on the most difficult days, is the foundation on which I stand.

I had been planning to restart my life—shifting my focus from caring for others to caring for myself, and recharging my life energy. When I painted this work several years ago, I did not yet feel content or confident. I was caught between wrapping up long-standing personal and professional responsibilities and preparing for a new beginning I had envisioned for a long time.

Instead of excitement, I became aware of my limitations, including the effects of burnout and my reduced energy level, as well as the growing responsibility of caring for my aging parents back home. This self-portrait reflects my complicated emotions during that time: uncertainty, fatigue, and hesitation, but also a quiet decision to move forward in my chosen direction despite these obstacles.

I later returned home to support my mother, who needed increasing care as she struggled with aging and declining health. Despite these challenges, her personality remained strong, along with her desire to continue living life on her own terms.

As I observed her daily struggles and quiet perseverance, I found myself thinking of The Old Man and the Sea. In many ways, my mother continues to live as she always has—still sailing, enduring, and moving forward. This work reflects my recognition of her resilience and the continuity of life, even in the face of physical limitation.

Hold Up the Earth is an impressionistic painting composed of Acrylic and Mixed Media Collage. It is a strong statement of my vision that collectively we will take care of Mother Earth and humanity. Many of my pieces reflect my thoughts on sociopolitical matters.

Here we see a young girl with outstretched arms trying to hold up the world. Parts of the globe are visible on a map. She stands in shoes too large for her feet. She is diminutive and vulnerable. Valiantly she is attempting this Herculean task. Definitely she needs everyone to help with this urgent task.

I create art as the necessity of breath for my life. I create art as a spokesperson for those who cannot, or will not notice what needs to be accomplished in our world for Good, and to raise awareness to critical matters. In all my endeavors I strive for Harmony, Balance and Beauty, ancient Asian and Grecian Principles.

Visual Art creates a long lasting statement. It can call us to humanitarian action and Loving Kindness, and be balm soothing our soul.

My style in oil portraits is very realistic-I enjoy capturing the moment when people are relaxed and reveal their inner selves. My goal in this self-portrait was to create an emotional image that viewers could use their life experiences to interpret it in their own way.

I very much like the shape of the female form. In this particular piece, she is in movement, ready to stand upright, her feet in water, as though she is receiving a message grounded in a different reality. This is a monotype, meaning that there is only one of these. She evolved over time as I continued to work on her. She likely has something to say, either in dance or words.

These slippers remained with me, though I had made three geographic moves. They belonged to my son when he was a young man, and they had been well worn, with holes in the bottom. Finally, I was able to print them and I love what happened. They represent something old that is interesting to me now, though twenty years have passed. It is about holding on and letting go simultaneously.

This hawk first came to my garden during the Pandemic, when I was into day 7 of my convalescence. I was exhausted and very lonely. She came, and then her mate came, and they performed an extraordinary dance that felt like it was for me, to lift my spirits. She moved in rotating spirals, and he held up his wings, spread out, as she danced. Later, as I remembered them with much gratitude, I decided to make a copper plate etching with a hawk as the central theme

The copper plate etching of a hawk became an opportunity to cut up its parts and reassemble them into a new composition. I love gazing at it. It reminds me of the quest for certainty and the willingness to let certainty go, and instead to live into mystery.

Weedy Trophy is acrylic paint on a birch gallery depth panel with a clear resin coating. The painting is inspired by Queen Gertrude’s line, “When down her weedy trophies and herself fell in the weeping brook(4:7),” from the iconic play Hamlet. For Ophelia, these were not weeds, but her beautiful death garland. I wanted to tap into the idea of women and judgment.

The acrylic painting technique involves mixing the paints with thinning mediums to create the right consistency. The lower base coat is applied wet and fluid, and then color is layered on top. All work is done while the paints are still wet. A straw is then used to move the paints into the fleurette shapes. After it is thoroughly dry, a coat of resin is applied. Though my subject is Ophelia, her experience is very near my heart.

Free and Bounteous is created with acrylic on a birch gallery depth panel with a clear resin finish. The inspiration for this stems also from the play Hamlet, and also deals with women being judged, but this time it is Ophelia’s father who criticizes her deeply for her private relationship with Hamlet. In his insults he accuses her of not knowing her own mind, and says that she has “been most free and bounteous” with her private time with Hamlet. However, his true reason for verbally assaulting his daughter is that she makes him look bad.

I wanted to illustrate that indeed her expression of love for Hamlet is lush and beautiful, echoing her motif of flowers throughout the play. The thin base coat is a soft green to indicate her blossoming, with vibrant fleurettes the echo her innocent full love. I wanted to convey that reckless beautiful feeling of love I, too, have felt and to see it with respect rather than ridicule.

I designed this fused glass piece as an exploration into the emotional and physical toll recent social and political issues have had on me. Dark, external shadows press in on a shattered, colorless face that represents a fracturing of the soul by the weight of the world. It attempts to portray the feelings of being buried by the darkness, the shattering of the self, the ever-present lump in the throat holding back a scream. The tiny, dark, human figure struggling to climb the slippery flow of tears represents my inner struggles to attempt to regain some emotional control. That uphill climb denotes not only struggle, but perseverance, as well as the fragile nature of hope.

My neighbor’s water pipe burst, and sandy water was pouring out. The sun’s rays made the water glisten, and made the sand move in interesting patterns. After editing, I noticed this side of this woman’s face, with long hair flowing, and her hand pointing. It was like I was looking at myself as an inner water sprite from long ago, guiding me to always seek beauty, no matter how mundane the scene may seem from the outset.

Eclipse. One thing covers another, present atop past, not gone, still shining a halo around edges. This is the third, perhaps fourth, iteration of the same canvas. Previous layers remain visible, not erased, with additions made over time until arriving here: a surface dense with personal symbolism, nature, and more than one self-portrait.

This piece is difficult to translate digitally and is best experienced in person. It is built in layers, with a shallow physical depth that changes depending on light, shadow, and where the viewer is standing. The front layer is a lace curtain stretched tight, with areas of white and gold paint applied. About two inches behind it is a painted canvas, more colorful, holding the silhouette of a female figure caught mid-stretch or in motion.

The figure is not meant to be clearly seen. She exists as a silhouette, and she is further filtered through the curtain, so her presence shifts. At times she feels almost visible; at other times she recedes, defined more by shadow than by paint. Light passing through the lace becomes part of the work, changing what is revealed and what remains obscured. The work resists full disclosure, giving a glimpse at a private self.

Three of me, painted in acrylics. One young. One middle aged. One now. Looking out. Looking down. Looking forward.

I’ve been thinking deeply about what I would do if I could go back in time. As a kid, I loved to write and draw, but I hated sharing them with others. It made me feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. Criticism about my artwork felt like someone criticizing my entire soul. If I could go back in time, I would let her tell me all the stories left untold and show me all the artwork left unseen. Even if I could go back and undo my worst memories, I’d still choose to sit under the stars and listen.

I did two in this series so far, the first was inspired by my huge vase with fairy lights, and a challenge to paint my cozy safe colors, which morphed into my happy colors instead… this painting I added in the contrasting darkness to the outer spaces on the canvas. So a mix of a cozy safe space and contrasting darkness.

There is silver leaf to represent the inner lights, and copper leaf on the outside of the vase in the white area to show the diffused light reaching into the dark places. I find this piece reflective of making a way through difficulty, and keeping safe spaces- sprinkled with delightful sparks of joy. I’m enjoying playing with abstracts and colors in this series and will continue to see where else the light may take me.

In the last ten years it feels like our world has become unrecognizably divisive. It has confused me, frightened me, and infuriated me. When I’ve tried to explore how this can be, it has become apparent that while the core of who we are is usually formed by our environment when we were children, in today’s world we are influenced through the lens of what we see and follow online. As a result, while I may despair of what I consider a failed social experiment, I also recognize that we are all prisoners of that experiment’s algorithm. Yes, me too.

When I left for college my mother slipped a cartoon in my suitcase. The words were those of this piece, with a small cartoon character in the bottom left saying, “me.” At 18 I thought it was corny and sweet, but over the years it became increasingly important until it was a core value for me on both side of the equation. I need my friends, my family, my community. And I want to be present for them too. Moreover, this piece is also a declaration that all those who I have loved have not only been important to me, they continue to be important to me.

What is important to you? How do you want to live your life? What will be your legacy? Those are questions I ask myself as a part of my new year’s resolutions. Yes, I know how ponderously earnest that sounds. But I’ve found it helps provide me with a foundation. In the last couple of years “being the light, providing the light” has been my aspiration. This image was the visual representation for that goal. One of the things I like about it is that it is unclear which side of the image IS the light.

I visited a ghost town last fall. I had been thinking of my grandmother and how I wished I had spent more time getting to know her. This ghost town reflected a very different life than what she had experienced in the city of the Hague in Holland in the early 1900s. Yet when I found this scene in one of the corners, I realized that while we all are different, some things are all the same.

This work is about cycles and changes in the natural world and our world. It also reflects unity and diversity as portrayed by the three intertwining circles and what they contain. There is an oval egg shape encompassing all three circles, which is not accidental. To me it signifies hope and new beginnings for future generations, animal and human. Beyond the egg shape there is a space eluding to a greater power that holds all of this together, and created all. The seeds are purposely placed in the center of this universe because they are, among other blessings, central to our survival and wellbeing.
This piece also marks the passing of time and changes in humans, plants and animals, as is evidenced in the birds, hands, and butterfly cycle and I don’t believe in death, only transitions.

This last year has been emotionally exhausting, and like many people I know, I feel like I’m just hanging on by a thread. I tried to depict this fragile state by creating an equally fragile fused glass piece where the little glass human (me) precariously hangs from a thin thread of glass.

This year my church is celebrating its 150th birthday and as the resident history nerd I was given access to the church’s archives. After sorting through a stack of photo albums I was delighted to find my class photo along with my other classmates. Seeing my 3rd Grade self way back in the early 1970s sparked waves of both nostalgia and disbelief – where did the time go? While I have had an interesting journey so far if I had the chance to say something to that introverted little girl it would be: “Worry less” and “Draw more.” In this photo are the two Carrie Lees: the younger wore glasses with thick coke-bottle like lenses and watched the world quietly. The older me no longer needs those glasses constantly thanks to cataract surgery a few years ago. While being socially awkward still applies to me but I’m OK with that and having a sketchbook as a constant companion.

I felt frivolous early in the 2026 call for the Visions of Self Show and wanted to do something where I’m happily waving at an Amazon truck. I disdain Bezos but he produced a service that creates time for me to do things besides run errands and such. I was going to call it Happy Hypocrite or something.

Then ICE murdered Renée Good and Alex Pretti and my light-heartedness vanished. Those tragedies and subsequent lies led me to paint my entry, “What’s Next?”

Miss Darla, as the dragonfly princess, represents transformation and change…focused on a new journey of self-discovery. She is fearless in her appearance, as though she knows she can do anything she sets her mind to…she is letting go of that which no longer serves her highest expression, moving forward with grace and a peaceful heart.

These words and this cat begged to be together…just as you see them. I love this message focused on self-acceptance and authenticity, which the cat conveys naturally through body language.

The lines on my face have taken years to arrive, each one a quiet record of a life lived. This new scar under my eye is still unfamiliar—reshaping how I see myself—but in time it, too, will settle into the story of who I am.

Born from a series exploring the female form, this work uses a mannequin as its starting point. Through shifts in shape, form, and color, the figure is transformed into multiple, evolving visions.

This is a self-portrait painted in acrylic during a quiet, everyday moment. I’m crouched and still, while my cat moves around me the way she always does—circling, passing through the space, never quite stopping. It’s a familiar rhythm and something I’m very aware of when I’m at rest.

This self realization piece is a story about you, who is me, and me who is you, because we are one.

As you look through the 13 windows of the painted pods and see yourself in the mirror, you become involved with the entire painting, as if you are the painting.

This is my latest podscape experiment.
Each time I create a new Podscape painting, I try to elevate my work into a higher level using different techniques of application and concept.

I love how this piece brings you, the viewer, into my actual piece, while looking through the pod windows. As you move back-and-forth, perceiving what you see in the mirror, you see the environment that you are in, creating an ever changing living landscape.

The glass bobbles represent the stepping stones we walk to reveal our ever evolving illumination of reality.

In the mirror, you see yourself, which is the reflection of the fifth dimension of who we truly are, as we watch ourselves from beyond, playing in this dimension we know as earth.

It also gives the viewer an intimate chance to be part of the painting.

So seeing yourself in my painting is seeing yourself of who we are, which is one.

This self portrait painting is an intimate study of my secret self in the continuing development of my Podscape series with a little vigilante involved.

I often think of them as little communal dwellings that you could live within, with the constant imaginary thoughts of what would be inside those little pods? And, what kind of furniture would be able to fit in those rounded soft cornerliss rooms with a big window to the magical world of its existence? And most importantly, what would I be looking out at?

This particular painting is the first final product of my acrylic resist experimental pieces. I find it very fascinating, and a little unnerving, not knowing what’s going to resist and what’s going to stick to the canvas.

This idea reminds me of my own past secret life of a graffiti artist. Living out the adventurous, and sometimes a little dangerous, activities of true artistic organic expression.

I chose to portray myself with my partner in crime, my cat, as the skilled oracle guide and independent vigilante, fighting crime using her detective skills to deliver divine messages helping her community.

I know that I truly am one of the earths superhero beings.

My mixed media collage is entitled “Biracial” and depicts my life as the child of a Thai mother and a Caucasian father. I created a collage inspired by a water lily picture that I took in my parent’s backyard. The flag of Thailand and the flag of the United States of America are interwoven throughout. The water lily itself is composed of a picture of me as a baby (1970s) and a picture of me as an adult (2025). The word “Pachalee” means “Angel” (which has personal significance) and is printed in both the English and Thai language, then integrated into my artwork. The ultimate intent of this artwork is to celebrate biracial identities. Being biracial is multilayered and complex, but it’s also wonderfully fulfilling.

My 3 pieces, The Indoctrination, The Execution, and Breakaway toward Light loosely parallel parts of my life. When young, life was inundated with magazines such as Seventeen, Cosmopolitan, Elle, Modern Bride. 16 Magazine showed me the wives and paramours of rock stars and icons, and who didn’t want to get “that look?” Life started out with a Barbie doll and progressed to periodicals telling me what was expected and attractive to boys. Never did I consider why they were not held to rigid standards it was just the way we lived. We took diet drugs, engaged in self starvation and emotional destruction, wore unfathomably uncomfortable clothes to create “the look” whatever we believed it to be. These paradigms of attractiveness became ingrained as we practice and execute the indoctrination. Although I had a professional career as a lawyer, early training stays on. In later years, now age 70, the paradigm has shifted to the background and many times now I can sense a fleeting “me.” Print media is a dinosaur gone by the wayside. But, the proliferation of social media influencers hawking products is just as destructive and dangerous to the self, if not more so than print media.

My 3 pieces, The Indoctrination, The Execution, and Breakaway toward Light loosely parallel parts of my life. When young, life was inundated with magazines such as Seventeen, Cosmopolitan, Elle, Modern Bride. 16 Magazine showed me the wives and paramours of rock stars and icons, and who didn’t want to get “that look?” Life started out with a Barbie doll and progressed to periodicals telling me what was expected and attractive to boys. Never did I consider why they were not held to rigid standards it was just the way we lived. We took diet drugs, engaged in self starvation and emotional destruction, wore unfathomably uncomfortable clothes to create “the look” whatever we believed it to be. These paradigms of attractiveness became ingrained as we practice and execute the indoctrination. Although I had a professional career as a lawyer, early training stays on. In later years, now age 70, the paradigm has shifted to the background and many times now I can sense a fleeting “me.” Print media is a dinosaur gone by the wayside. But, the proliferation of social media influencers hawking products is just as destructive and dangerous to the self, if not more so than print media.

My 3 pieces, The Indoctrination, The Execution, and Breakaway toward Light loosely parallel parts of my life. When young, life was inundated with magazines such as Seventeen, Cosmopolitan, Elle, Modern Bride. 16 Magazine showed me the wives and paramours of rock stars and icons, and who didn’t want to get “that look?” Life started out with a Barbie doll and progressed to periodicals telling me what was expected and attractive to boys. Never did I consider why they were not held to rigid standards it was just the way we lived. We took diet drugs, engaged in self starvation and emotional destruction, wore unfathomably uncomfortable clothes to create “the look” whatever we believed it to be. These paradigms of attractiveness became ingrained as we practice and execute the indoctrination. Although I had a professional career as a lawyer, early training stays on. In later years, now age 70, the paradigm has shifted to the background and many times now I can sense a fleeting “me.” Print media is a dinosaur gone by the wayside. But, the proliferation of social media influencers hawking products is just as destructive and dangerous to the self, if not more so than print media.

Looking into the eyes of a young person can be like visualizing the future. Light is able to illuminate the triangle of one’s existence yet with so many other experiences in the shadows and reflected upon, what will become of her when she graduates high school? With her dreams held in a delicate balance, her only reliance is to work hard and let the universe decide. As in the creation of this image, it is still a mystery how everything aligned within a split second.

Innocent, poised and just starting high school, her world is what lies in front of her. Acceptance, academic performance, self-identity are pressures that exist in navigating this time. Through micro expressions in her blue eyes at the moment of the exposure, her inner emotion comes through allowing something relatable, behind the lace and in the light.

With future generations being faced with using new technologies, people may encounter questions of what is reality verses what is synthetic. Time will reveal if what is seen can be believed. Will there be machines made to navigate the world with an increase or decrease of digital influence? Could devices help heal, increase survival rates or provide information? The premise of the photograph can be one of hope or one of demise.

Painted representing an older version of me that is still alive but hidden, one of the layers of my self.

I’m affected by the seasonal changes. In Spring there’s a time for new awakenings and rebirth. In Summer the heat stimulates outdoor physicality towards energy and purpose. In Autumn change is in the air – a slower pace of unwinding. Winter in its sleepiness brings about hibernation by moving into a languidly of soft fluffy blankets and warming fires fires.

The physical world that I experienced as a young girl often felt like a lonely, isolated, colorless and cold place, just me and my best friend the Great Dane dog; but my inner world was a veritable garden of beauty, wonder and imagination where magic happened every day.

After I broke some bones I realized I was no longer immortal, thus began my exploration of my inner and outer self.

“Two Moments in Time” brings together my 21-year-old self and my 77-year-old self. Both are real. Both have meaning. Both embody my lived experience.

As I continue to embark on the journey back to my soul, I am learning to choose to pour into myself. Instead of turning towards others for external validation, I am learning what it truly means to trust myself, love myself, forgive myself, and accept myself for all that I was, that I am, and that I will continue to be. Each vessel, tea cups and tea pot, are wheel thrown with hand sculpted elements that reflect my personal facial features, demonstrating the fragmentation that I am continuing to move through with grace and love.

Most of my art originates from a self reflective inner garden, a sanctuary, a place of escape and release of both turmoil and delight. I gravitate toward all things having to do with water. I am a Pisces and fish enter my work in many different ways. Recently, I had a one person show featuring works that explored the proliferation of plastic in the ocean. This piece shows me in a contemplative perhaps concerned place, worried about the future of the planet and my place in it as a creator, which is what I have devoted my life to. I am being strangled by my paintbrush, which is my tool for survival. The red shoe is a recurring image in my work, symbolizing the side of myself that lets go and explores what comes my way.

I use dolls and paper dolls to explore my dual heritage, Hispanic and Anglo. Paper dolls were important to my childhood development of self image. But I was caught between two worlds and unsure of my identity. I was American, but my personal heritage was unclear. I have spoken to may others of mixed race who struggle with self identity. The cactus represents the Hispanic side and the magnolia the Anglo side from my mother. I’ve always checked “other” on forms and felt like it was a negation of who I was. This issue is most timely now when birth and birthright is being questioned and used to criminalize people.

After surviving the devastating Camp Fire, my life did not simply begin again. What followed was years of pain, loss, and a struggle to understand how to live in a world that no longer looked or felt the same.

This painting comes from that place — the suffering that lingers long after the flames are gone. The dark trees represent the weight of grief, trauma, and memories that remain standing even when everything else has been burned away. The fire and glowing sky reflect the constant presence of loss, fear, and the slow, uncertain attempt to heal.

For years, I tried to rebuild what was taken — my home, my sense of safety, my sense of normal.
Some days, progress felt impossible. Other days, simply surviving was the victory.

This piece is not about resolution.

It is about acknowledging the pain, honoring the struggle, and giving voice to the quiet, ongoing work of recovery after profound loss.

The struggle is real — and it continues….

In our lives, we all create images in our minds of the person who we think we should be, whether it was molded that way by society or by the stories that we tell ourselves. For the past few years, I have experienced role conflict, from deciding between being interested in things I’m passionate about and attached to, and being a person who believes they can’t be too much, or everyone will leave them, so they decide to abandon their true self. This is a self-portrait that I made to show a vulnerable part of myself, when the voices stop, and suddenly, I realize how much anger and pain I have held in all this time.

The birds make me happy and I like the green color on the bird. I hope people see that it’s fun.

To be honest, this piece is a reflection of my love for frogs and the beauty of the forest.

I feel my best when I’m in nature.

I am a mother to young kids trying my best to raise good humans in a world that sometimes feels scary and is always ever changing. Someday my identity won’t just consist of motherhood but right now it does. Dark. Light. Joy. Sorrow. Motherhood.

This year I devoted myself to spare materials – graphite on paper; life study. As my life turns to its last quarter, I seek to orient myself to its structures and rhythms to convey the meanings of the moment I see before me.