You know the one — that sudden pull that takes you straight back to a fond memory.
For me, it’s often the smallest things. A green cup. A green pillow. That pop of green when everything outside is still brown and gray in mid-March. It instantly brings me back to one special St. Patrick’s Day. We were celebrating in a beautifully renovated old landmark building in town. The owners had restored it with such care — a gleaming brass rail at the bar, a new dance floor, and room for a brass band. It felt magical. That unexpected touch of green still takes me right back.
Mary Cassatt’s Breakfast in Bed does the same thing for motherhood. It’s not me or my own child in the painting, yet something in the quiet intimacy — the way the mother holds her little one while the child looks out with wide, curious eyes — feels deeply familiar. It reminds me of raising my children and the years I dreamed of becoming a mother. Now, as a grandmother, those memories feel even more precious.
That’s why I paint the way I do.
I want my paintings to stir those same warm feelings — the kind that make you pause and smile when you walk past them every day. Gentle reminders to keep the spark alive, savor life’s simple pleasures, and continue building the beautiful life you love.
Lately, watching my grandchildren play takes me right back to my own grandmother’s kitchen. She’d pull out a step stool so we could stand at the sink and play in a dishpan full of soapy water, blowing bubbles with straws and kitchen utensils. Simple, joyful fun. I’m happy to see that some things never change — a tub of bubbles still brings pure delight.