​This series of three paintings came from my personal battle with alcoholism.  It took me 18 years, minus the 100 days I had quit in 2020 and a couple 30 day breaks to finally accept the fact that I could no longer drink alcohol.  I knew for a very long time it was a problem for me and it was a perfect combination of things that finally got me sober in August 2021.  I read a book titled, "This Naked Mind" by Annie Grace that dispelled the illusion that alcohol was benefiting me in any sort of way.  I suddenly recognized all the lies I'd been telling myself for many years about why I felt I needed to drink to just feel ok.  It wasn't fun anymore.  All of a sudden I felt a release I can't experience.  I knew I was suddenly free from this illusion.  I began to go deep within myself and also sensed a presence within me that was angry that I could finally see the light!  I asked to be shown this presence which felt like it was breathing down my neck, seething in anger.  It had held me, prisoner, for so long, and was furious I was escaping.  I had a vision and did a 180-degree turn within myself and standing right behind me, was a black silhouette of me, like I was staring back at my shadow.  It was me but it wasn't.  Something was very off.  I had to see the face!  I drifted slowly closer into my shadow's face and where my eyes were supposed to be, were instead two eyes that weren't mine.  They were narrow, small, and red and spaced too far apart on the face to even look human.  I had a moment of terror and a voice said to me, " This is the side of yourself that you've been seeking for far too long".  I thought, of course!  This only makes sense!   It was clear to me that every time I got drunk, I gave this dark side of myself permission to take over and it had become so strong over time.  She looked physically strong and now furious that now by my Higher Power's Grace, I saw the truth!; that alcohol was a poison that I'd been slowly killing myself with, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It was blocking the channel between me and my Higher Power. It was a huge Lie! 
  The first painting titled 'Booze Trip' shows me at the driver's wheel after a trip back home from the liquor store after promising myself for the one-thousandth time that I wouldn't drink alcohol that day. I would wake up in the morning with a hangover acknowledging that I needed to quit drinking and that I would stop but by late afternoon, those good voices would change and I would start finding excuses why a drink sounded like a good idea.  By evening, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to buy it "just in case" I decided to drink.  It was a constant battle in my head between my good angel and my bad angel.  Hey, I may have to paint a picture of that idea one day!  The steering wheel is symbolic in this painting because I'm the one who's trying to be in control of everything in my life when really I'm completely out of control!  My conscious mind feels pulled between two states and there's anxiety and also adrenaline from the turbulent emotions.  My shadow self is very pleased and content with the intention on my part to drink alcohol that night.   
  Painting #2 titled, 'Shadow Self' oil 2022 shows me in my studio questioning yet again my decision to drink that night when I'd already taken a sip of the first drink! By taking the first drink, I had already surrendered to the will of my shadow self.  The door was open for my dark half to take over and either ruin or interfere with anything good I had going on.  The phrase, "My addiction's doing push-ups in the parking lot". comes to mind with this one.  Once I take the first drink,  the gate has opened and my shadow self is ready to play. Oblivion and Devastation.  
  Painting #3 titled, 'New Beginnings' oil 2022 is the image that came to mind when I began to picture what lies ahead for me after getting sober in August 2021.  I saw where I had been before; a world that was flat with color and numb with emotions (The left side of the painting is the dark room where I wasted many, many hours drinking).  My new life as a sober person had become so much more vibrant and colorful in just the first few months.  I saw everything on the other side of the door, free from alcohol with a new set of eyes.  Everything was in technicolor and there was a mountain in the distance.  The sunflowers always follow the light which is what it felt like for me, coming from alcoholism, a dark place into a newly lit world.  This sense of new wonderment began to dissolve after about 5 months and the anxiety that I thought was a repercussion of drinking began to return.  It became such a problem one day that I decided to look for help in my sobriety instead of doing it alone like I had been for the past several months.  With the loving support and guidance of several sober women in my life, I found a 12-step program in my local community.  When I attended the very first meeting and opened the door, I felt like the character in the 'New Beginnings' painting for real!!  I've been in the program for 8 months and it's much easier for me to climb the mountain of life if I have steps and people (real-life angels)  to help and walk with me on this journey.  

  Today is November 6th, 2022 and I'm a year and a couple months free from the bondage of alcohol.  It's something I no longer even think about.  What I'm experiencing is a "daily reprieve" from that desire to drink.  What I do think about daily now is seeking out what my good side wants me to do.  I want to establish a relationship with that higher power in me that only sees what is good.  I don't have to be in control anymore.  I've surrendered and I'm at peace.  I'm enjoying my life in a new way and many good things have happened since I've gotten sober.  I know it's just going to get better but I'm not going to worry about the future because I'm just taking it one day at a time!  Thanks for reading my story. I hope it helps anyone who may be struggling to know they are not alone.

​The inspiration behind 'Ghosts of our Passed' comes from the venue where I have my annual exhibition for  the Florida Day of the Dead celebration. It takes place in a historic Inn (New River Inn) right on the river in historic Fort Lauderdale.  Every year when I arrive there in October,  I feel this knowing presence of the place, like it's welcoming me back home  and I'm right where I need to be. Some say it's haunted. I wouldn't be surprised! I wanted to paint this area right outside the Inn with those who have been before us, in a different time who've come to join us today and celebrate life. When this painting was exhibited the first time, hanging in the front side room, I enjoyed pointing out with others at this painting, "this is right here, right now; and look! That's me and this could be you!" This was received by art goers with unsuspected recognition and definitely a laugh. It made a great conversation piece for sure! The correct name for this special place is now called the Fort Lauderdale Historical Society.  I have again the honor and privilege to exhibit my work here in a solo show for this year's 2021 Florida Day of the Dead Celebration! This painting along with many others will be featured. See you Nov 2nd!

This year, to say the least has been a challenging one for many people and for many different reasons. I struggled as an artist with the inspiration and motivation to create anything. It's been by far, the year that I created the least paintings. What I did find very comforting through this time was reading books. I read a novel by Jeanine Cummins, called "American Dirt". It's about the horrific and treacherous journey a mother and young son take from southern Mexico up North to the United States via "la bestia" the train that travels from south to north. It's a desperate way for many immigrants to get to the USA to try and escape the corruption and danger from their country for the hopes and possibilities of a better life in the US. This book made me cry and also to count our many blessings that we have in this country. The book really put life into perspective and made our complaints like, not being able to buy toilet paper or go out to eat because of covid, seem so insignificant! There was a passage in the book that stood out to me and was the inspiration for this painting. It said this, as Mom and young son, Luca were traveling dangerously on top of the moving train: " " See you in el norte, manito," one of them says to Luca. "Look me up when you get to Iowa. We can have a hamburguesa together." He gives Luca a high-five, and then turns to follow his brother across the top of the train. "  

With all the dangers and uncertainty of their destination, Mom and son had to face, it was this image of just being able to be safe across the border and enjoy a hamburger, something we might take for granted, that seemed like paradise. This is what inspired me to create, 'Mi Hamburguesa". In the bottom right corner, I added a train traveling through the night to represent 'La Bestia"

Needless to say, I highly recommend this novel as an eye opening tale of what immigrants have to risk to get to the USA in hopes of just a normal, safe and better life.  As I was creating this piece, I also heard my Dad's voice from heaven, "It's about time you create a hamburger painting!!".  Hamburgers were his favorite food, as was mine, and we took turns calling each other "Wimpy" the character who only ate hamburgers from Popeye haha! Oh and the LA Dodgers happened to win the world series after I created this, so perfect!  Thank you for reading about the inspiration behind the painting, and now after all this writing, I'm craving a hamburger!  We have a very good life.  Blessings to you all! 

My first childhood memory of wanting to become an artist, is when I was around 5 years old, and was in my mother’s bedroom,  staring at a painting of a Macaw parrot, painted with great detail and realism.  My Mom then told me the story behind that painting; that her mother, who I had never met (she died when she was forty two) painted that painting at just thirteen years old.  She took it off the wall, and showed me her signature, Winifred Tolly, 13 yrs old.  I was amazed that as a  young girl, my grandmother had painted something so beyond her years.  I asked if she later became a famous artist.  My mother then went on to explain, as much as she could to me, a child, how life had been difficult for my grandmother.  She had much drama and upheaval in her short life, and that her art, sadly took a back seat and was forgotten about.  This story made me very sad.  It also made me very determined; that  if I was ever to become an artist, to fight for it no matter what obstacles I might face, and succeed in the remembrance of my grandmother Winifred.
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  The second childhood inspiration of becoming an artist, happened when I was least expecting it.  I was on a camping trip with my parents.  We lived in Colorado and my Dad used to hook up the camper to the bronco and travel to high up destinations in the Rocky Mountains.  After driving for hours, we finally arrived at the campsite; a higher elevation with sparse, large pines and large, white boulders everywhere.  As my parents were setting up camp, I was anxious to be out of the car and set out with my sketchbook to explore.  My mother warned me to stay close by and “don’t get lost!”.  I was always afraid of that myself, and listened to my Mom; but after only taking a short walk, I looked back to where I thought I would see the trailer, but saw nothing but boulders and pines.  I then thought, oh I made a mistake; it’s this way back.  When I then saw again, nothing but boulders and pines, I became totally disoriented.  Everything looked the same.  I walked, in yet another direction into what looked like a clearing.  It was a circle of large pines, and right in the middle was a baby pine.  I then began to panic.  I called out to my Mom and Dad, but heard no response.  I remembered, that when one becomes lost, to just stay where you are.  Since I had my sketch book with me, I decided to sit on one of the boulders, and sketch this little pine tree, that seemed so vulnerable, yet protected by the larger, wiser pines that surrounded it.  Sketching this little tree, I felt a wave of peace and light wash over me.  In that moment, a gentle voice spoke to me.  It told me to sign the bottom right corner of the sketch.  I had never done this before.  When I added my signature, I heard the voice say again, “It is now complete.This is what you will do in life”.  After this moment, that seemed to stand still in time, I came to, and I was drawn like a compass back with great relief to the campsite.  I kept this experience from my parents at the time, because I didn’t want them to know I had been lost, but also because it felt like a secret treasure; this moment, that I wanted to hold close to my heart.  It wasn’t until much later in life, when I became a painter, and was signing the bottom right corner of one of my first paintings, that this memory came back to me vividly.  My heart swelled with gratitude with the memory and for the present.

​I created this painting, inspired by the death of my father this past year.  My Dad was diagnosed with Leukemia in September of 2018.  Prior to that, he was a fit 70 year old, who was very active.  His passion was taking his jeep up into the mountains in his home in CO and climbing what seemed impossible trails.  No one ever suspected that he might not be well.  I had just seen him that summer in June, and he took me for a ride in the jeep with him up there in the mountains.  The road he took to "Miller Rock" was very narrow, rocky, and steep (I was nervous) and he operated his jeep with control and ease over every slippery boulder.  When we reached the top, we exited the jeep, and he told me, we were going to climb this incredible Rock.  When we first began, I was full of adrenaline, because, I'm terrified of heights, but I looked at my 70 year old father, ahead of me, and thought, I can do this!  Wow my Dad really pushes me and I love him for that!  When we reached the top, it was a 360 degree view of the Colorado Rockies. My breath was taken away at the beauty and there was something so special in that moment I shared with him.  The word, Grace is all I can use to describe it.  After we climbed back down the rock and back into the jeep, the trail began a decent, and we ended up in the most beautiful meadow, I've ever seen.  There were wild columbines growing everywhere and a vibrant river, flowing through it.  We spent some time there, just walking around, talking, and taking it all in.  On the ride back home, I felt so much gratitude in my heart, that I could experience something so beautiful with my father.  I felt it was a gift for us.  
   Just two months later, is when my Dad started not feeling well, and tests were done, and it was what you don't want to hear; Cancer. My Dad underwent chemo therapy immediately.  I flew back home to CO, and hadn't seen him since I left him well, in the summer.  Before entering the hospital room, it was shocking because we had to gown up and wear a protective mask so we wouldn't expose him to any outside germs which could threaten his almost non existent immune system.  When we entered the room, I couldn't believe the sickly man, laying in this hospital bed was my father.  He looked so sick; like he had gotten into a fight and was on the losing end.  He looked up at me and asked, "well how do I look, Heather?".  I said, "not too good, Dad".  He thanked me for being honest.  So many people don't know what to say or do in this situation and he hated the lies; "oh you look good!; you got this!'.  He knew deep down, I think that his chances of beating this were slim.  
  He hardly spoke or moved the first few days I was there, but on the fourth day, he perked up and even got his appetite back.  I was wondering if perhaps all of our prayers were beginning to work.  He told the nurse, I'm ready to go for a walk.  We were all amazed.  The walk he took, with all of us around him, was just a walk around the cancer ward in a loop.  When we reached his room again he said he wanted to go for one more lap.  When we returned the second time, back to his room, he made it to his bed and was thoroughly exhausted.  When he sat on the edge of his bed, still trying to catch his breath, a card someone had given him, that sat with many others on the ledge of a window sill, inexplicably fell and landed on the floor.  It's like someone had flicked it with their fingers, and it caught the sunlight when it fell.  We all turned to see it was a holy card of Padre Pio, a Catholic saint.  When my mom bent down to pick it up, she read what it said: 
 
  "Walk cheerfully and with a sincere and open heart as much as you can, and when you cannot always maintain this holy joy, at least do not lose heart or your trust in God."  

  We took it that day as a sign that maybe, he would be healed, but for sure that our prayers were heard and he was not alone.  

  After spending weeks in the hospital, his treatment and chemo regimen was moved to out patient which made him happier.  He was feeling better, despite being poked and prodded and given endless bags of blood, since his own blood he was making, was poison to his body. I flew back and forth to CO as much as I could, since I live in Fl.  I decided I needed to be there with him for his birthday on Nov 12th.  Of all days to receive the much dreaded news, he was told, the treatment was not working and there would be no hope of beating this disease.  We sang happy birthday to him on his 71st birthday,back in the hospital,  knowing he had about two weeks.  His care then turned to hospice and just making him comfortable until the inevitable. I prayed he would still be alive by Thanksgiving, when I could fly back out again.  Thankfully, he was able to enjoy his last Thanksgiving surrounded by his three girls, his wife, sister and granddaughter, in his home.  Soon after thanksgiving he was ready to go into hospice  at a very nice facility where his family could be present as well as the 24 hour care he needed by a caring staff.  After entering hospice, his condition deteriorated rapidly.  Within, days, he completely stopped eating and drinking.  He  slipped gently into a coma.  They said he was at that point, caught between two worlds.  His soul was in and out of his body, flying around.  He would mumble, like he was talking to someone,  He called out "Momma!"  like he could see her, and "Grandma"!  He also said something peculiar.  He said "follow the girl.  She knows what to do".  His final words were "I love you" to my sister, which he seemed to gain consciousness in that moment.  After that he never spoke again. On the eve of his passing, my mom, sister and I were at his bedside.  I decided to step out for a moment, and call my family back home in FL to give an update and check in with everyone.  After hanging up, I looked up at the night sky, and asked God to just please take him.  He had been holding on in this coma and I just wanted him to finally have peace.  When I went back inside and entered the lobby, I saw the black grand piano they had in a little sitting room.  I've played the piano all my life, and I had wished to play for my Dad, just one last time, but that time never came.  I decided to just sit down and play one classical piece from my childhood.  One song, turned to two, and inspiration took over, and I played like I never have before.  I ended with my Dad's favorite piece, "Pachelbel Cannon" , George Winston arrangement from his December album.  When I played the last chord, emotion filled my heart.  I felt a rush of tremendous love, and I knew that somehow, even though my Dad was in a coma down the hall, that he had heard me.  When I got up to go back to the room, a nurse had been listening close by, and she approached me and said that she has always loved classical piano and that what I had just played was touchingly beautiful.  I broke down and said, that it  was for my Dad. She said, "I know.  I felt it too", and gave me a hug.  I went back into the room, and hugged my Dad and told him thank you for inspiring me to play the piano and sharing so much of his music with us.  Around 10:30, we all decided to go back home after being there since morning.  We all said our goodbyes and headed out.  When I got back into the car, I said to my Mom, it looks like I left my hat inside the room.  I thought, maybe, I'll just leave it; but it was my good hat!  My mom said, "just go get it!".  I went back into the room, and there it was on a chair.  I picked it up, and walked over to my Dad.  I looked at him in the eyes, although I don't know if he could see me.  I said, "Dad!  I forgot my hat!".  Somehow, I think he knew and had a hand in making that happen.  We had a moment together, just me and him.  I told him again that I loved him and see you later.  When I left finally, I walked down the hall and spied the nurse that hugged me earlier and gave her a wink and smile.  My Dad died just a few hours later in the early morning hours on a Saturday of  December 1st.    I was the last person to see him alive,  I believe it was a gift for me.  There are many more gifts like this surrounding his death like the surprise that when we received his clothes back from hospice, that he had passed in,  that he was actually wearing my white t shirt as an undershirt.  It somehow was mixed up in his clothes from a previous trip to CO!  Also at his wake, something went screwy with his video slide show right at the end when everyone shared their stories,  and it was stuck on his face with a weird blank square that said "error".  I think that was his sense of humor coming through, to let us all know, he was there and had heard the funny stories. My sister and I looked at each other and just laughed.  At his funeral, the single, little carnation that fell from his beautiful bouquet, and when I went back to retrieve it, the good friend of his that I'd heard about for years, and he of me, that I finally got to meet.  My dad wanted that to happen. 
 
 I  have to say, that his death was a spiritual experience for us , that brought us all together. I am grateful that we all could have time to say goodbye or as I like to say instead, "see you later".


  About the painting:  I originally began the painting while he was still in treatment, that was going to be for him of Padre Pio.  As I progressed the painting, after he died,  I saw that the figure actually began to look like my father, himself walking down a path.  I decided to add "the girl" in the form of an angel, leading him down a lighted path, in a heavenly forest.  I then decided to instead, make the figure to be a heavenly figure, that could be anyone, even male or female. The red on the hand, could be the stigmata that saint Padre Pio, experienced in his life, but also represents the human struggle in our earthly lives.
  This painting was months in the creation and the end result of my entire experience of my Dad's transition to the other side.  Like the majority of my paintings, I believe that I create for others and not for me alone.  I hope that this image will mean something for someone else and somehow bring healing, and love.

 Thank you for reading my story.  It has been healing for me to share. Blessings

 This is the second out of three of my Frida Kahlo inspired series for 2017, focusing on the emotions of Frida.  This one is about anger; being fed up!  It portrays the event in her life, when she cut off all of her hair as a rebellious act to destroy who she formerly was for Diego. She dressed so pretty, with her Mexican  dresses, and jewelry, and long hair with braids and ribbons.  She was done and no longer wanted to please him, since he cheated on her with her own sister and didn't deserve her!  I included a quote on the wall from one of her paintings (self portrait with cropped hair)  from an old Mexican folk song at that time which says, " “Look, if I loved you it was because of your hair. Now that you are without hair, I don’t love you anymore.” I also included a copy of one of her own original paintings, inside this painting (A Few Small Nips).  I imagine that this is how she must have felt to be so betrayed by Diego. A clever follower of my art, gave me the idea to merge titles for 'A Few Small Snips'. 
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