Studio Reflections & Gratitude

Lately, I’ve been moving through a season of deep reflection and preparation. I’m honored to be welcoming a museum visit to my home studio—an opportunity I hold with great care. Studio visits are meaningful moments of exchange, allowing space to share not just the work itself, but the stories, intentions, and lived experiences that shape each piece.

I’m also deeply grateful to share that I was selected as a semi-finalist for the New Mexico COVID-19 Memorial Public Art Project through Bernalillo County. Artists from across the Southwest submitted work for this memorial, and being among the small group moving forward is truly humbling.

This project is especially close to my heart, as it is meant to honor and remember the lives lost during the pandemic and to offer a space for reflection and healing.

I would be honored to advance to the next round and continue this journey.

As part of the process, the public is invited to view the semi-finalists’ proposals and share their thoughts. If you feel called, you can see my submission and hear the story behind it through the links below. Your support and words truly mean more than I can express.

🖤 View all submissions and leave a comment:https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/N7QXQ2W

🎥

Hear my story and learn about my proposal:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=83-woteKtu7A3djv&v=eYD2_AeFTJE&feature=youtu.be

Thank you for walking alongside me, for supporting artists, and for honoring the importance of remembrance and community.

With gratitude,

On the Verge: A Beautiful Grand Opening at Merge Modern Gallery

The grand opening art show On the Verge at Merge Modern Gallery in Albuquerque was a beautiful and inspiring event, filled with creativity, community, and an undeniable love for the arts. The turnout was wonderful, with a large crowd of art enthusiasts and collectors coming together to celebrate this exciting new chapter for the gallery.

From the moment you stepped inside, the space was alive with energy. The gallery was filled with talented artists and striking works, each piece contributing to a rich visual conversation that flowed seamlessly throughout the room. Every wall offered something new to discover, making the experience both engaging and memorable.

Merge Modern Gallery shares its space with Catalyst Coffee, which added an extra layer of warmth and hospitality to the evening. Our family enjoyed some of the delicious drinks available while taking in the art. With comfortable seating and a welcoming ambiance, it was the perfect environment to slow down, connect, and truly enjoy the work on display.

A heartfelt congratulations goes to Angie Rehnberg—artist, curator, and owner of Merge Modern Gallery. Anyone who has organized an exhibition knows just how much work goes into a show of this caliber, and Angie did an incredible job. Her dedication and vision were evident in every detail, and the impressive turnout reflected just how much that effort paid off.

I am honored to have two pieces included in On the Verge, both 20" x 24" acrylic on canvas works:

• Prayer for the Forsaken

• Haven Under Siege

Both paintings are currently available for purchase at Merge Modern Gallery. Being part of this exhibition—surrounded by such strong artwork and supportive community—has been a truly meaningful experience.

On the Verge was more than just an opening night; it was a celebration of local talent, collaboration, and the vibrant art scene here in Albuquerque. I’m grateful to be a part of it and look forward to what’s ahead for Merge Modern Gallery and the artists it continues to champion.

Surviving the Chola Show & Women’s Art Show of 2025: A Near-Death Comedy

Let me tell you about the weekend I almost died… twice… maybe three times… all for the sake of art.

Two shows.

Same weekend.

Same location: the National Hispanic Cultural Center.

One artist: me.

One 48" x 48" painting that refuses to fit in my car.

And one tiny dog who nearly ended my life.

Chapter 1: The Great Squat Apocalypse

It all started the week before when I made the brilliant decision to put FOUR, maybe FIVE layers of sealant on my painting From the Barrio With Love. Apparently, sealing a piece this large requires 5,000 squats and the stamina of a CrossFit champion.

By Monday, I couldn’t walk. By Tuesday, I couldn’t turn my neck. By Wednesday, I was moving like a neglected marionette whose puppeteer quit mid-show.

Chapter 2: Sons to the Rescue (Again)

Since my vehicle can’t even dream of fitting a 48x48 canvas, one of my sons spent the entire week chauffeuring me around like a slightly injured celebrity with a stiff neck and a questionable life insurance policy.

But before we even got to that—Manuel, sweet angel of patience, spent the night before reorganizing ALL of my prints and greeting cards into perfect, beautiful order. Alphabetical? Color-coded? I don’t know. But it looked like the greeting-card aisle at Target. Truly a miracle.

Wednesday arrives. We go to Albuquerque to pick up Manuel’s massive freshly framed Art in Public Places piece. It’s heavy, it’s delicate, it’s gorgeous, and by “we loaded it,” I of course mean my sons loaded it while I supervised like a wounded crossing guard.

Then off we go to the NHCC to deliver my three Chola Show pieces. So far, so good. I mean, I’m moving like a broken robot, but things are getting done.

Chapter 3: The Not-So-Graceful Swan Dive

Thursday morning, I’m taking a peaceful shower. My little dog decides to run into the wet shower like she’s sliding into home base. She darts out, dripping wet, and my first thought is:

“NOT ON THE BED!”

I reach to grab her… and the universe says absolutely not.

Suddenly, I see my own feet above my head. I fall like a cartoon character off a cliff — head, shoulder, elbow, hip, lower back — BAM.

Manuel is yelling, “Are you okay?” My daughter bursts in. I spring up, grab my robe, and scream, “I’M OKAY!” while tears stream down my face and blood drips on the floor.

I look at my elbow and I swear I can see the inside of my soul. Do I go to a doctor? Absolutely not. I wrap it, sit in bed, and contemplate my life choices.

Why did I reach for the dog? Why?...

Chapter 4: Zombie Mode Activated

The next morning, I feel like I’m floating outside my body, starring in my own medical documentary. Head pain, neck pain, elbow pain (untouchable), back pain, hip pain… basically everything except maybe my eyebrows.

I arrive at my shows moving like a 95-year-old woman who’s also been hit by a bicycle, a scooter, and possibly a small car.

Slow. Small steps. One at a time.

Chapter 5: The Daughters & Sons Save the Day

At the Women’s Art Show, four of my kids show up like a superhero squad. They’re saints. Angels. Warriors.

By “help me set up,” I mean:

They set up. I sit. All hail the Queen of Pain.

And my daughter — bless her heart — ran my entire booth like a pro because I kept having to sneak away to the restroom to check on my elbow, clean the bandage, and breathe like someone who just survived a martial-arts stunt gone wrong.

Chapter 6: Success, Glory & Mild Internal Screaming

Despite everything —despite the squat trauma, despite the dog-induced concussion, despite moving like a haunted rocking chair…

Both shows were amazing!!

I sold my original 'Whispers From the Earth,' tons of cards and prints, met incredible people, and was approached by NHCC contacts about future opportunities.

Was it worth breaking my entire body?

Honestly…Yes. Absolutely.

Would I do it again?

……I think so. (But next time, the dog can drip on the bed. I’m choosing peace.)

'Whispers From The Earth'