My husband, Mike, and I are the parents of six children and grandparents to twenty-three. Yes, twenty-three! Life has always been filled with kids, art, and the lovely chaos that comes with both. I’ve learned that creativity often happens in the spaces between things.
In my late forties, I returned to school and worked as an RN in a busy NICU. It was a rewarding chapter and a box I needed to check. But as my grandchildren arrived in waves, I found myself wanting to spend more time with them. With my schedule once again my own, I found my way back to the studio and to the calling that was quietly waiting.
My mother, a gifted needlework artist, lived by three simple rules: work hard, keep your hands busy, and be kind. Whether I’m holding a grandchild or a paintbrush, I hope to live a life that reflects her grace.
My serious study of pastel began under the guidance of Nicora Gangi, a nationally recognized pastelist and then-professor of art at Syracuse University. She introduced me to the practice of copying the masters and opened my eyes to the breadth and depth of the art world. Generous with her knowledge and resources, she lent me books from her extensive art library, an experience that inspired me to build my own beloved curated collection.
My path in oils began with the mentorship of Lawrence Churski, whose early influence grounded me in the fundamental elements of painting. Over the course of many years, I have studied with artists whose work stirred something in me. Master artists, Daniel Greene, Carolyn Anderson, Scott Christensen, Colley Whisson, Randy Sexton, and Anne Blair Brown.
For the past two years, I’ve been mentored by Dawn Whitelaw. Every artist I’ve studied with has left an indelible imprint, But Dawn asked more of me. She challenged me to truly begin each painting with my story.
“Alice,” she said, “I don’t want a reproduction of the scene. I want poetry.”
Even though her words stung at first, I gave myself grace and stepped back from the way I’d always approached my work. Dawn had given me more than critique; she’d given me permission to let go of perfection.
She unleashed my creativity to tell the story that initially drew me to the image. To embrace play and experimentation, and to become a better storyteller.