’m still processing everything that happened over the past week. My solo exhibition, Little Kingdoms, opened on October 10 at Saks Galleries, and to say I’m humbled and grateful feels like an understatement.
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| With my family on opening night! That's my name on the front window! 🤯 |
I sometimes fear that my work will bore people to tears. But at my opening, I didn’t feel that insecurity at all. Instead, I felt seen—deeply and profoundly seen. And there were some tears, but they were tears of joy and knowing, not boredom!
One of the most moving things I heard from collectors last weekend was how many of them saw my vision for the show—without reading a single wall label or catalog page. They told me, “You’re helping us notice things in a new way… like the fall leaves. So much attention to detail!" I laughed and said, "I spent all of last October going for walks and looking down at the ground. I think when people passed me on the trail they thought I was just avoiding eye contact!"
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| "Meditation in Gold," 30x30", oil |
Another viewer said, “These places feel so familiar. Like I remember that feeling as a kid, of playing in the ocean, or reading a book and imagining the characters were right there in the room with me.”
Those comments struck a chord, because that’s exactly what I hoped for. Little Kingdoms is about finding refuge and belonging in the small, ordinary moments of life—the quiet sanctuaries where we are most ourselves. It's about our own kingdoms that we build or discover throughout our lives.
My dear friend Erica, who has known me since college, drove up from Colorado Springs to see the show. Her daughter was the muse for my painting Castle in the Clouds. When she stood before my self-portrait, Stillness in the Swell, she began to cry. “I know what you’ve been through,” she said. “Seeing this expression of peace on your face gives me joy and reassurance that you’re healing—and growing, because of it all.” Her words brought me to tears too. What a beautiful thing it is, to be known so deeply by another person—and to have that understanding reflected back through art.
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| Studio shot with my self portrait, "Stillness in the Swell", 24x14", oil. Photo by Sara Long. |
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This show feels like a culmination of many years’ worth of waiting—waiting to have the time, the courage, and the emotional readiness to paint certain ideas. Some of these works have been living inside me for years. It wasn’t that I lacked the skill, but that I needed to take some big, bold steps first. I needed to grow into them.
One of those bold steps was Lioness. This piece is about claiming space—in art, in life, and within ourselves. For years I played small, afraid to take up space in a male-dominated art world. Lioness became my declaration that I no longer need permission.
I first photographed the model seven years ago, when her confidence felt like something I could only aspire to. Over time, I grew into the very qualities she embodied. After visiting Africa and watching lions in their natural kingdom, I finally understood the vision: this painting would celebrate not only her strength, but mine—and, I hope, every viewer’s as well.
I found out after the fact, from the model herself, that her grandmother's nickname was "The Lioness." I guess it runs in the family. :-)
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| "Lioness," 36x24", oil on linen |
Another piece that I had waited a long time to make—and my personal favorite painting in this show—was Red Balloon. It’s a painting about being different in a world that demands conformity. I’ve shared before about my son’s autism. The challenges of parenting over this past year were one reason I never wrote a blog post in 2024. Yet through those challenges, I’ve learned so much about what it means to parent a child whose brain is wired differently. I’ve developed greater patience and compassion, not just for him, but for myself.
In this painting, he stands quietly in a moment of stillness, caught between two realms: the intricate, complex world within his mind, and the blooming, vibrant world around him that doesn’t always make space for difference. The hydrangeas symbolize his inner thoughts—swirling, mysterious, all-consuming. The red balloon, a nearly forgotten emblem of childhood joy, floats lightly in his hand, on the verge of drifting away. It hints at both innocence and detachment.
Red Balloon is not about sadness, but presence—about beauty coexisting with otherness, and about honoring the quiet, brilliant lives that bloom just outside the noise of the “real” world.
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| "Red Balloon," 40x48", oil on linen |
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| With my son Everett. He was about 3 years old when he modeled for the photo references for this painting. He is now 7! |
So now I’ve taken these steps—I asked for a solo show. I painted for the solo show. And I made it happen, in collaboration with Saks Galleries. It feels like a personal triumph.
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| Feeling like a boss babe in these photos by Sara Long. I was lucky enough to get some studio shots with my paintings before the work went off to the gallery. |
Of course, I couldn’t have done it alone. My children aren’t just wonderful models; they’re my constant muses, inspiring me daily with their wild imaginations. My sisters—my best friends—showed up for me in every way possible, one of them even driving across states to be here. My art community showed up. My gym community showed up. And my husband… he’s been there from the very beginning, supporting me on the hard days, the long nights, and the seasons when it all felt impossible.
I’m so, so grateful.
And if you’re wondering—yes, the "giraffe painting" (as "His Highness" has been dubbed) was a crowd favorite! 🦒
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| Everett (my wild thing!), and I in front of "His Highness," 90x24", oil. Framed by Bryan Smith. |
Little Kingdoms runs from October 10-24, 2025. Select works will still be available for a limited time through Saks Galleries. You can visit their website to peruse the work, or purchase a show catalog here.
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