About Court

My studio sits at the base of the foothills in Golden, Colorado, with paint on the floor and gold leaf dust worked into the carpet by now. I paint large, mostly in layered acrylic, with gold leaf brought in where a piece calls for it and sometimes a final pass of oil or oil pastel to close it out.

I don't start with a plan. One of my teachers likes to say you should show up for the lovely possibility without being attached to the outcome, and that's close to how a painting begins for me: open, present, willing to be wrong about where it's headed. The piece tells me what it wants to become, usually somewhere far from where I started, and only once it starts coming into its own do I move into refining it. Force a specific result too early and the painting stops cooperating. It happens every time.

I paint abstract because I love that the same piece can mean something completely different to two people standing in front of it. I'm not depicting a place or a moment, I'm after the feeling of one: an energy that isn't pinned to anything literal. It's also why I keep titles and descriptions loose. There should be room for you to find your own meaning in it.

Before this, I spent years in brand marketing in New York City, learning to think hard about visual impact and how a space makes someone feel. I also trained as a classical ballerina for eighteen years, until an injury ended that path. The discipline, the movement, the sense of restraint and release: all of it is still in how I approach a canvas.

What I want, at the end of the day, is work that's genuinely beautiful, and that makes the people living with it feel something. A room that feels more like itself because of what's on the wall.