Anastasia 2021 Exhibition

This is the community pathway next to Bell’s Cottage. The way I experience Provincetown is on my bike. Each pathway between the houses is a moment of arresting beauty. I will drive past them at certain times of day to see what colors are on offer. This particular early spring morning, the oranges mesmerized me. I endeavor to share my visual bliss with you.

The light in February is so low and so piercing , it’s difficult to see. You are unprotected on this giant sand dune. Looking up Commercial Street , I wanted to capture the intensity of the winter light and the feeling of coziness I felt. The dust in the air have presence. Time is moving slower. The street is quiet. Im immersed in yellow.

The beds are tucked up in the rafters at Captain Jack’s. The residence of long ago cut-out views to the sky and built ladders to use every corner of the cabin.

Sleeping in the rafters here reminds me of building forts as a child and long summer days. When I am sleeping here now, I remember the endless minutes of musing tucked in against the harbor breeze.

I find the colorful cut-outs of the rooftop regenerative. I fall in easily to my imagination and the adventure I will plan. Many crazy schemes and paintings have been born in these rafters. I find Captain Jack’s Wharf incredibly inspiring.

This March morning was one of those warm day anomalies. The air still had a crisp undercurrent, but the promise of spring was present.

He wore silver slippers and peacefully read. I loved him for leaning into the best of the day. I especially loved him for showcasing big spirit during the Covid here.

The yellow door is iconic. I think every artist in Provincetown has painted some version of this door. For me, the struggle with the puppy and the yellow door together are Ptown.

Everyone in Provincetown has a dog. They are the children of our community. You hear people scolding or fussing over their canine family members constantly. The eye exchanges between them could convince you the puppies understand English. Some of the puppies I’ve met are as distant in personality from their owners as any two strangers could be. I have enjoyed watching this particular disagreement.

My delight is sitting with my cooking watching the morning light fall in from the garden. The pillows were arranged in aa accidental design created from a hasty cleanup the night before. I was enjoying experiencing the way the one pillow seemed to become the star of the assemble. she had the light. She also had me.

Shakespeare for me is a symbol of culture. He was an artist who played and found inspiration in his reality. To me culture gives all of us an intimacy with the truth of life, that is the magic, the love, the joy. Shakespeare extracted from history and real people. He took the truth and presented it poetically from his imagination. 

I like seeing him guarding over us as he peers down the street inhabited by the latest generation of artists. 

This angle makes me feel like he is protecting us!

Do we get to own this now? This is a rendition of the biblical story of Susanna and the Elders. As a mother of an innocent, beautiful young woman, seeing her become an object of desire in the eyes of the elders was petrifying. Knowing she wasn’t safe and watching her become aware of that felt so unfair. I am haunted by the dynamic of innocence and femininity and when woman can truly own their power. I used my daughter partly to envision her owning herself. I want to ensure my viewer that the beauty is theirs.

So, I painted it inspired by Artemesia Gentileschi who after being ruined in a gang rape in 1610 became the greatest painter of her time and Elizabeth Louise Vice Le Brun. Le Brun also painted a version of Susanna and the Elders. After befriending Mary Antoinette, she was given permission by Louis XVI to become the first woman to study alongside the men. She became a beloved European portrait artist.

What to say about this very special man. He is gorgeous body and soul. We talked about love, desire, and dreams for months during Covid. Painting him and experiencing his spirit was an honor. 

Strangers and Saints is my favorite dining spot in Provincetown. Sitting outside during a perfect summer evening, feeling the air of the bay,  sipping a cocktail, and basking in the pink light is perfection. All of these things conspiring together as you gaze and feast  on the light as it transforms all into a magical world.

Dan and I stopped our bikes to revel in the beauty. We were excited to run into each other for the first time on the high street. The joy exchanged by our tiny community is of constant nourishment to me. Going out on a walk to look at the moon is a normal pastime. Exchanging animated joy both meeting up accidentally on the one and only one mile long street is also a normal occurrence. The decadence of  color  and community is always a surprise.  I am so grateful for these moments.

MHV Portrait 11x14


When I first walked into to the Mary Heaton Vorse house, what impressed me most was the unique paths of light that came in. Every source of light seemed like an enticing adventure .

When I looked down the stairs, I felt lured towards the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. I loved the Twilight Zone. The green stairs with their peeling layers of paint promised this staircase had stories. My imagination was piqued. Who else but a writer with too many children and tons of chaos would live here? 

The house requested this painting after seeing the one I did for Terrance and Brett.

As the house has settled in, the playful and precarious staircase appropriately captures the soul of this lovely cottage. Endless key and endless creation.

This is a theme I paint all the time. I’ve always looked out windows or through fences, imagining and yearning to be part of that life. I spent years imaging that I would be happy if I lived there or was there.

Now, I am fascinated by this feeling when it happens. It reminds me that I am here, as I reflect on the sweetness of a young girl who dreamed of being a part of a magical world. I love the nostalgia and my obsession with a view and how it can elevate and inspire.

Shakespeare for me is a symbol of culture. He was an artist who played and found inspiration in his reality. To me culture gives all of us an intimacy with the truth of life, that is the magic, the love, the joy. Shakespeare extracted from history and real people. He took the truth and presented it poetically from his imagination. 

I like seeing him guarding over us as he peers down the street inhabited by the latest generation of artists. 

I’m obsessed with CS Lewis’s biography “Surprised by Joy”. Many years ago, when I was looking for direction and a philosophy that really spoke to me, I read his autobiography. He spoke about a Norse painting in his nursery and the feel of measuring his progress in life when he walked.

For some reason, this idea that Joy was a signal of connection of being exactly where you are divinely meant to be made complete sense.

I was looking at the simple blues, Marc Jacobs towel from 20 years ago, and my sandals. I felt complete Joy.

This is an image from March, towards the beginning of the pandemic.

Once I settled into my quarantine, the walk to the Jetty became one of the obvious destinations. I imagined myself as a character in one of Jane Austin’s novels. The wind was whipping, the cold air on my face, walking on the rocks alone in the stunning desolate beauty. The beauty of nature is powerful, and its ability to bring you into a state of profound meaning and purpose is an experience I relish every day.

In Provincetown, it’s impossible not to participate in the rapture. The Jetty teaches me that beauty is there steady, unchanging, a loving companion holding you.

When I looked at this joyful group of tulips, I marveled at their color, their playfulness, and their individuality. How incredibly alive they moved in the breeze. The landscape behind them made me imagine the endless adventures that were present.

How appropriate the gardener of these tulips is a man who also leads a group of colorful humans to joy. He is constantly beckoning his friends to sparkle a bit brighter and to relish life a bit more. Thank God for the gardeners.

My mother painted a picture of a clothes line in 1995 with a painter called Tommy Thurmond. It is my favorite painting of my mother’s.

I’m not sure why I love clothes lines. It’s the opposite feel of high fashion. Yet, the smell of Ptown air on your clothes is one of the most enticing experiences for me.

I love how the little wooden clothes pin is the star of this dramatic scene.

John and I took a sunset bike ride to Truro in early June. The town was beginning to come alive a bit. The lawn guy was out mowing the grass. There were signs of life everywhere.

John is a consummate adventurer. In NYC, a rendezvous at a gallery will turn into tasting cookies and a short visit to the Met. On our bikes that day, John treated me to several little visual snacks along Route 6A. There are two pieces from this particular bike ride.

I love this scene because it’s iconic Truro. She never changes. The image is timeless.

I find this hilarious. The sign is so tiny. I barely noticed it. The crack in the road seems indifferent as it heads toward the houses. The light is everywhere and so is my attention. 

I find the sign is so incongruent with the beauty, the joy, and the reality. 

The Hat 11x14


Laying in bed and allowing my eyes to dance around the reflected light, I felt like a visual chef. The hat grounded the animated play of colors playing around the door and the window.  The floorboards, the distressed mouldings, and the velvet fabrics danced around in the light coming in. The hat and the bed were like me: Steady, absorbing, and being with the party. 

The clouds were so simple. I was sitting on the bow of Nick’s boat coming back from Boy Beach. I was immersed in blue and a feeling of divine well being. The frenetic energy of the summer receded and there only existed these incredible cloud formations.

On a cloudy March day I thought this adorable art gallery looked as though it were spilling over blue paint.

When I visually dug in, I felt so intrigued by the richness of detail. The rusty anchor and the empty announcement box were so perfectly waiting for something to happen. The buds were pushing through the tidy garden.

The Beachcombers buildings is attached but uncaring, unchanged yet still capturing a perfect Ptown patina.

The Mary Heaton Vorse House has been exquisitively loved on by Ken and his team. It’s literally a visual feast for an artist. I meditated on every detail as I let my eye follow the light across the bed.

The Mentorship 11x14


This is a portrait of the office of a man who gave me his loving guidance generously. I sat in this office discussing dinner parties, politics, and romantic intrigue. He passed this past year. This image gives me the feeling of absolute gratitude and loss.