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I am inspired by nature, dreams, spirit and antique treasure bindings. My work starts in clay and I cast, paint, mosaic and gild each piece, adding my handmade cabochons as the final ornamentation.

Drawing has always been, more or less, part of my life. My great grandmother was an artist, as was my mother, and they influenced (and, in the case of my mother, supported) my affinity for realistic art. I focus mostly on detailed, realistic drawings, including magnified images of woodland landscapes based on photographs I have taken while walking in the woods and on the beach near where I live in Essex County, MA, using both graphite and colored pencil. I find the magnified images of the woodland floor compelling landscapes not only because of the varied shapes, but the myriad of colors. In this case, the orange and dark reddish purples are compelling. This particular image is a portion of a larger image that I intend to draw in the future, perhaps on a larger scale.

Sumiko Inoue is a portrait shaped by absence, displacement, and the quiet resilience demanded by war. During World War II, thousands of Japanese American families were forcibly removed from their homes and interned, their identities reduced to numbers, their lives abruptly suspended. This work does not attempt to document that history literally; instead, it seeks to convey its emotional weight. The figure emerges and recedes simultaneously, layered with erasure, abrasion, and fragile color. Her expression is restrained—neither confrontational nor submissive—reflecting the emotional containment required for survival. I use muted, weathered tones interrupted by sharp passages of color to suggest both vulnerability and endurance. Scratched surfaces, veils of paint, and partially obscured marks echo the experience of being seen yet unheard, present yet displaced. The portrait exists in a state of in-between: between cultures, between belonging and exclusion, between visibility and invisibility. The surface carries its own scars—intentional marks that mirror the psychological toll of confinement and loss of agency. This is not a single individual’s story, but a composite presence shaped by collective memory. Sumiko Inoue honors those whose dignity endured despite injustice. It asks viewers to slow down, to look beyond surface beauty, and to consider how history imprints itself quietly—through posture, restraint, and what remains unspoken. The work stands as both witness and memorial, insisting on remembrance through empathy rather than spectacle.

I often use black and white toner transfers from my photographs to create encaustic paintings. I was struck by the love emanating from this elderly couple, on a warm summer day, on the streets of Manhattan. Two lucky people to have each other, and more precious than a newlywed couple.

I love using airbrush to paint wildlife, including insects, birds, reptiles, anything with fur. I started out doing biological illustration many years ago but discovered the airbrush and its versatility. The frog was a fun challenge.

The light as evening beckons creates a sense of wonder. Who knows what possibility awaits just around the bend!

In this piece, I was thinking about the weight and strength of being female. I focus on the female form as I can feel its connectedness to everything. At one time, we were all both male and female, embedded and nurtured in the female torso.

Built to Last honors the foundations we build for ourselves. Inspired by Ireland’s enduring stacked stone walls, the work reflects how layers of experience, relationships, and place form the base upon which we grow.

This is the house of one of my neighbor's on a cold winter's day at dusk. I was moved by the cold the warmth of the windows and taken with the beautiful near monochrome of the scene. Taps into a universal emotion that this winter scene of a home triggers.

My hand-formed sculptures are nature-themed and this particular one is an abstract form meant to recall the Stargazer Lily. It is finished in high gloss white glaze.

The practice of medallic art allows me to create smaller, more intimate works. It also lends itself well to create a series of medals. “The Clothesline” is a first in a series I am calling "Mundane Medals," to celebrate all the beauty I find daily in the little details of our busy life. I'm one who loves to hang dry my laundry, and during the winter I string my clothesline up in my bedroom, (adds humidity and saves energy!) When I wake up in the early morning, with the first dim glimpses of sunlight, I see this rhythmic hanging of shapes of my shirts with such great shadows and texture. I am reminded of the early black and white photos of tenement apartments with clotheslines strung about and I think of my well being, the clothes I have, and the quiet comfortable room I choice to dry them in. A feeling of peace and comfort comes over me. On the reverse of the medal is a haiku that I wrote in support of the image on the front of the medal. A double sided medal begins as two separate pieces, each modeled carefully in clay or plaster. Then molds are made, lettering is refined, and waxes are poured of each side. After melding the two waxes together, it is shipped to the foundry to be cast in bronze.

There is a tension between the nonchalant act of a womxn skinning an apple, the red crescents of apple skin falling towards a fish, a once living creature, being sliced open seemingly like a sacrifice upon an altar. A womxn's hand appears to hesitate near the fish as though an attempt at saving it was unsuccessful. The black and white figure conflicts with the bright red apple skins falling from her knife. Red represents both the fruit and the life force. The iconographic use of gold implies a spiritual aspect to the piece as do the hands with palm reading diagrams indicating that fate is unyielding.

A sense of adventure and opportunity - a new path for discovery.

Nature's most compelling moments often arrive in contradiction—darkness approaching while light persists, calm before the storm, beauty amid threat. This photograph captures such a moment on Brazil's South Atlantic coast, where I spent over a decade working for several weeks each year with a regional healthcare education institute. The Ceará coastline near Beberibe offers dramatic geological formations: golden sandstone cliffs carved by wind and water over millennia. On this afternoon, storm clouds gathered overhead, their weight and darkness dominating the sky. Yet brilliant sunlight continued to bathe the cliffs and beach below, creating a stark juxtaposition that called to me. My creative process relies on observation and anticipation. I don't manipulate scenes but rather position myself where nature's drama might unfold. Here, the contrast between impending darkness and persistent illumination created visual tension—a metaphor for life's constant interplay between challenge and possibility, shadow and light.

After a long career as a graphic designer in NYC, I wanted to return to pursuing the fine arts. I began by painting everyday objects. The object taking center stage. Portrait of a pear. One day, I just decided to paint a bird. Spending time away from the city and in nature opened my eyes to the beauty and delight of viewing, listening and learning more about these miracles of nature. Watching them makes me smile. I want the bird to be the focus of my painting, devoid of distracting busy backgrounds. My goal is not to create exact scientific renderings, but to capture something of the uniqueness and personality of individual birds. A portrait.