Meet the Huntress
She paints what the light is about to do.
She hunts the light —
and the hummingbird follows.
She grew up chasing a particular quality of light — the kind that lands on a wall in the last ten minutes before dark, when color shifts faster than you can name it. Somewhere along the way she found that oil paint and a stretched canvas were the only things that moved fast enough to catch it.
The hummingbird found her. A creature that hovers — fully present — for exactly one impossible moment, then is gone. That's what she's after in every piece: the moment that doesn't stay, but absolutely was.
Her studio is a place of intentional mess — layered colors, half-finished canvases, the warm smell of linseed and possibility. And, quietly, a kitchen nearby: a different medium entirely, cream and sugar and the same unhurried precision. Both crafts ask the same thing. Pay attention. Be present. Don't rush what needs time.
Inside the work
143K follow her there.
These are the hours the paintings are born in. Want to see what comes out?
She works in oil — and in cream.
Oil on canvas — layered, slow, unforgiving in the best way. Each painting builds the way light builds itself: one transparent layer at a time, until something finally glows from inside the work. These are the pieces that go on walls and stay.
See the collection
She bakes the way she paints — by feel, by patience, by the belief that the right flavors reveal themselves at the right moment. Each one seasonal, personal, made to be shared. These are the pieces that go on tables and disappear too fast.
Step into the kitchenThe hummingbird moves so fast it looks still.
That moment of impossible stillness —
that's what every canvas is chasing.
She paints the hours that go fast — dusk, early morning, the shift between seasons.
She hunts the feeling of a moment that has passed before you can name it.
She trusts that the canvas remembers what the eye forgets.
She isn't painting subjects. She's painting the light that makes subjects possible — the second before something reveals itself completely. Every canvas is a document of that pursuit.
Her signature — a creature that inhabits one moment fully, then is gone. The hummingbird doesn't linger, and neither does the light she chases. That's exactly why it needs to be caught on canvas.
A space of unhurried work. Canvases in progress. A kitchen nearby. The belief that a painting and a good cheesecake are both finished when they say they are — not a moment before.
Follow along as the work comes into the world.
Prints, paper & the gilded gift card
Fine-art prints and a few small things from both her hands — including a gift card good for a painting or a box of cheesecakes.
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