“Time Warps  (Bromo Seltzer Tower Reimagined)”
The Bromo Seltzer Tower stands at the heart of this surreal cityscape—no longer just a relic of industrial ambition, but a beacon for Baltimore’s visual and literary artists. Its iconic clock face anchors the composition, yet the surrounding architecture bends and ripples like memory in motion. Leafless trees stretch skyward, buildings lean into abstraction, and a veil of white dots overlays the scene like snowfall or static—blurring the line between atmosphere and artifact. The muted palette and warped geometry evoke a city in flux, where history and imagination collide.

This painting is a meditation on transformation: how a monument to time becomes a sanctuary for creativity. The Bromo Seltzer Tower, once a symbol of commercial precision, now pulses with poetic possibility. It invites viewers to reflect on how cities evolve, how artists reclaim space, and how even the most rigid structures can become vessels for dreaming.
 

“Pagoda Dream, Patterson Park”
Rising like a lantern in the night, the Patterson Park Pagoda glows with quiet majesty—its balconies stacked like verses in a poem, its pointed roof piercing the dream-thick sky. Built in 1892 as an observatory, it once offered panoramic views of a growing Baltimore. Now, in this painting, it becomes something more: a beacon of memory, imagination, and transformation.

The landscape swirls around it in abstract motion—stars, particles, and textures blur the boundary between sky and ground, realism and reverie. The tower’s illumination contrasts with the dark, undulating surroundings, suggesting both sanctuary and mystery. This is not just a depiction of a landmark—it’s a meditation on perspective itself. What do we see when we look out from a place of history? What do we feel when the past is rendered in light and distortion?

Here, the Pagoda becomes a vessel of wonder—an invitation to observe not just the city, but the emotional architecture of time.
 

This painting is a deeply personal reimagining of the Francis Scott Key monument—filtered through memory, love, and layered historical tension. At its heart is a quiet moment: my father walking toward the gilded statue, echoing his curiosity about the city’s past and longing to create were never fully realized. The swirling distortions and dotted overlays evoke both the dream of artistic connection and the emotional complexity of legacy—familial and civic.

The monument itself, once a symbol of patriotic pride, now carries the weight of controversy, having been defaced in protest. That rupture is felt here—not in literal red paint, but in the visual turbulence that surrounds the scene. The path is clear, yet the air is charged. Trees and architecture blur into abstraction, suggesting how history is never static, and how personal memory can soften even the hardest edges of public debate.

This piece honors a father’s quiet yearning and a daughter’s act of teaching, witnessing, and transforming. It’s not just a portrait of a place—it’s a meditation on what we inherit, what we question, and what we choose to preserve through art.

This painting continues the series’ meditation on Baltimore as both place and feeling—where landmarks become vessels of memory, and distortion reveals deeper truths. The Inner Harbor, rendered from an old photograph, bends under the weight of time and longing. The CHESAPEAKE ship floats like a relic of civic pride, while Barnes & Noble and the Power Plant shimmer in surreal waves, caught between nostalgia and reinvention.

As with the Bromo Seltzer Tower and Patterson Park Pagoda, this piece reimagines a familiar structure through the lens of emotional resonance. The harbor’s fluid geometry echoes the series’ central tension: permanence versus transformation, public monument versus personal meaning. It asks what we inherit, what we reshape, and how we carry the city’s imprint in our own evolving story.

This painting reimagines Mt. Royal Avenue and the University of Baltimore as a surreal urban tapestry—where architecture bends and breathes, and the city’s pulse is rendered in vibrant, dreamlike distortion. The familiar skyline is transformed: buildings shimmer with polka-dotted facades in hues of pink, orange, and white, evoking both celebration and fragmentation. The word “ROYAL” anchors the scene, a nod to the avenue’s historic gravitas, now softened by whimsy and abstraction.

This isn’t a literal map—it’s an emotional cartography. The distorted surfaces and playful patterns suggest memory, movement, and the layered identities of a city shaped by students, artists, and everyday rituals. The sky, a gentle gradient of blue, offers a moment of calm amid the visual cacophony, inviting viewers to reflect on how place is felt as much as seen. It’s Baltimore as a living collage—part nostalgia, part possibility.

This painting transforms Mt. Vernon and its iconic Washington Monument into a swirling meditation on memory, permanence, and perception. The familiar column rises from a bed of trees, but its form is no longer static—it spirals and bends, as if caught in a moment of emotional upheaval or dreamlike reverie. The monument, once a symbol of order and history, becomes fluid and expressive, refracted through a lens of abstraction.

White dots scatter across the composition like snow, stars, or digital noise—each one a point of interruption or illumination. The clear blue sky offers contrast, anchoring the viewer in a recognizable reality even as the scene dissolves into distortion. This is Mt. Vernon not as it is, but as it’s felt: layered with time, memory, and the quiet tension between legacy and change. It invites us to see the monument not just as a structure, but as a living symbol—one that shifts depending on who’s looking, and when.

This painting reimagines a classical Baltimore  -City Hall—as a fluid, celestial presence. The architecture, once rigid and symmetrical, now ripples and bends, as if caught in a cosmic tide. Swirling patterns and pointillist textures envelop the scene, transforming the sky into a kinetic dance of light and motion, reminiscent of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” but rooted in a distinctly urban dreamscape.

The dome, a symbol of governance and permanence, appears to hover between solidity and dissolution. It’s not collapsing—it’s evolving. The distortion suggests a city in flux, where history is not erased but reinterpreted through emotion, memory, and artistic vision. The dots—scattered like stars or digital fragments—hint at both the infinite and the intimate, bridging civic grandeur with personal reflection.

This piece invites viewers to see Baltimore not just as a place, but as a living idea—one shaped by time, tension, and transformation. It’s a portrait of a city seen through the eyes of someone who knows its weight and its wonder.

“Saratoga Street, Unspooled”
In this dreamlike reimagining of downtown Baltimore, Saratoga Street bends and breathes like memory itself—fluid, surreal, and alive. The buildings ripple as if caught mid-thought, their facades melting into one another in a choreography of urban distortion. Traffic lights float like sentinels of time, while the street sign—“SARATOGA ST.”—anchors the viewer in a moment both real and imagined. Banners flutter in impossible directions, and cars drift through the scene like echoes of daily life. This is not just a cityscape—it’s a meditation on movement, history, and the emotional residue of place. Baltimore is rendered here not as it is, but as it feels: layered, vibrant, and perpetually in flux.

Title: Walk for Peace
Painting inspired by a social media image of collective winter protest

A quiet procession moves through snow-covered silence—figures bundled against the cold, lanterns glowing softly in their hands. At the front, a marcher holds a staff, guiding the group through a landscape both literal and symbolic. This painting captures a moment of communal resolve: a walk for peace, born from digital documentation and reimagined in digital paintstrokes and gesture.

By translating a fleeting social media post into a meditative painting, I invite viewers to consider the emotional gravity behind public acts of solidarity. The snow muffles sound, but not intention. Each figure becomes a vessel of hope, grief, and determination. This work is part of a larger series exploring how online images—often ephemeral and overlooked—can be reclaimed as sites of reflection, resistance, and care.

“Walk for Peace”
A winter procession unfolds in quiet solidarity, red-robed figures moving with purpose through snow-lined streets. The presence of onlookers—bundled, watchful, bearing witness—transforms the scene from solitary ritual to communal memory. This painting reclaims a fleeting digital image as a site of reflection, resistance, and shared humanity.

This painting captures a moment of collective resistance. The crowd surges with energy and conviction, signs raised in defiance and hope: “SPOILER ALERT: FASCISM LOSES,” “I’M INVINCIBLE,” “IMAGINE ALL THE PEOPLE.” These phrases, echo the urgency and poetry of our times. By translating digital ephemera into digital paint, the work bridges fleeting online expression with enduring visual testimony. I hope it invites viewers to witness not just the spectacle of protest, but the emotional texture of solidarity, vulnerability, and belief. 

ICE OUT”
A crowd gathers in the geometry of the city, voices rising where concrete meets sky.
In this painted moment, protest becomes curriculum—an invitation to study courage,
to trace the lines between power and people,
to ask who gets heard and who must shout to be seen.
As educators, we hold space for these questions,
teaching not what to think,
but how to witness, reflect, and respond with humanity.
 I chose this image to study the architecture of a moment: the bodies that gather, the gestures that repeat, the emotional energy. By translating ephemeral online imagery into physical, intentional mark‑making, the work asks us to reconsider what we overlook, what we witness, and what we choose to remember. It becomes both archive and lesson, a practice in seeing deeply and holding space for the human stories embedded in every fleeting frame.

As the art teacher, social media manager ,  graphic designer at my school and general photo addict I take an enormous amount of photographs. Morgan always had a great energy and was up for helping with projects. She was the first profile I captured for my first silouette project of all the graduates that year. This has become a tradition each year.

I have a painting of the kitchens I have had over the years. This one is very special because we were able to buy a house after a rough few years.

This painting was insdpired by a photo I took of Rebecca at the beginning of the pandemic. We had time to do some "photo shoots" . This was a Friday afternoon.

Kathrine was a student a few years ago. She was helping me with a social media post.   

“Warren Road Reliquary”
I bought this China Closet as part of a dining set in 2000 from Montgomery Wards, it marked a threshold: after my long awaited addition was complete, giving me a dining room. My home expanded, the walls stretched to hold more life, more light, more possibility. My mother did not like the style or the stain. But I saw something else. Years later, maybe as a nod to her and her impeccable taste, I painted it white.

Now, in this painting, it glows from within. The warm amber light spills through its panels like memory itself—soft, persistent, unpretentious. The ornate frame, once overlooked, becomes a kind of altar. A place where ordinary things are made sacred through time, through care, through contradiction.

This piece holds the tension of inheritance and individuality. It remembers my mother’s disapproval, my quiet defiance, my evolving eye. It is inexpensive, yes—but it has borne witness to decades of dinners, seasons, conversations, and growth. It is a reliquary not of oak, but of presence.

This piece a a mixed media collage that focuses on a side board in a dining room. This one evolved over time, from straight collage to abrstraction. I have several pieces thatt explore the way I look at furnishing and home. Putting together spaces is like a puzzle and that's what design and ant art form is a problem to solve, a journey. Sometimes you have a happy ending and sometimes you do not.

This piece is another collage /painting /mixed media with the focus on interior spaces. Sometimes my work begins as a collage, then a painting. I might place it in a venue and it sells. I will use a photograph of it to farther explore the idea using digital means.

It is part dining room table and part office space. I have spaces that have to double as other things. Sometimes it feels chaotic.