“I create in remembrance and with resolve, honoring what endures and allowing ENOUGHNESS to stand.”

Becoming a professional artist was not something I set out to do. It emerged unexpectedly during a period of profound transition in my life. After my mother passed, my father, who was ill, came to live with us. He was an artist himself, although grief and illness had drawn him away from painting. While I had always been creatively inclined, designing celebrations, making costumes for my kids and decorating our home, I had never drawn or picked up a brush. At least not since elementary school. Hoping to gently invite me dad back to what once gave him joy, I set up my own canvas beside his and told him that when he woke in the morning he would find me simply playing with paint. The next day, coffee in hand, he sat beside me, picked up his brush, and began to paint again.

We painted together during his final months, quietly, without ceremony. Those moments were not about ambition or outcome but about presence, connection, and remembering who we are when everything else is stripped away. As his illness progressed, there came a time when he could no longer paint beside me. By then, however, I had fallen in love with art and wanted to learn more. I enrolled in the Mastery Art Program offered by the Milan Art Institute and continued learning from home while caring for him. Though he could no longer make it to his easel or hold a brush, he remained deeply engaged, listening to my process, asking questions, and sharing in the work through conversation. He was excited for me and celebrated even my most imperfect creations.

In a time defined by loss and uncertainty, art gave us something life-giving to return to. It created moments of meaning, curiosity and joy when little else could. After my father passed, continuing to learn and create became an act of healing, rooted in presence rather than escape.

My father was a deeply accomplished man, successful in his career, his marriage, fatherhood and all he set his mind to. Yet he carried an unspoken belief that he was never quite enough, unable to see himself as others did. In choosing the path of a professional artist, I carry his story with reverence. I create in remembrance and with resolve. I also create as a living example for my children and grandchildren. I hope they see a life shaped by passion is built through devotion and persistence and that it is never too late to step fully into what calls you. I allow myself to dream boldly, enough for both of us, honoring what endures and giving life to the strength my dad held, even if he never named it as such.