For one brief moment in my life, after taking my first life drawing class, I think I may have dreamed of becoming an artist. But in my youth, my insecurities wouldn’t allow me to hold on to that possibility. After all, certainty was comforting to me. But somewhere along the way, decades later, I discovered that art had become a safe place to explore uncertainty, go down unexplored paths and create something tangible from my heart.

Growing up in California with it’s mild year-round climate, I was an avid runner. I became aware of the wonder of the human body—loving the feeling of movement, pushing it to its limits, marveling at its strength, and respecting its resilience. As an athlete, I experienced the body from the inside: how it moved, how it felt, and what it could do. By contrast, studying anatomy gave me a different perspective. As an artist, it helped me see the body from the outside—to understand the structure beneath the movement and the figure as a complex arrangement of lines, planes, proportions, and form.

I learned how to see what I had been feeling.

That brings me to the beautiful human face, which sometimes recklessly reveals our emotions no matter how hard we try to hide what’s inside. Whether posed or born from my imagination, I feel as if I am getting to know the person emerging on the canvas, not just their features but who they are. And while painting, this may be a subtle shift of a line, a nearly infinitesimal turn of a lip or slight raise of an eyebrow. And suddenly, something begins to emerge: a personality and a story.

I can begin with what I know, and then with the strokes of my brush, let the rest of the story unfold, ending up with something I never could have calculated. For me, that is one of the great joys of painting. It satisfies my mind, fulfills my passion for creativity, and at the same time, engages and releases my heart. And ultimately, I hope my art speaks to something within you.