Art in the Barn
Barrington, IL
50th Anniversary show.
AITB was different from any other show I’ve participated in. The audience was engaged and took time to seriously s l o w d o w n and see.
It was the 50th Anniversary of Art in the Barn. The show’s beloved, sharp, and capable director, Val Pientka is stepping down this year. Val has shown how to run a big art show with grace and smarts. It was my first year, I juried in with my large latex on canvas paintings.
Somehow a space in the highly coveted upper barn was available this year. Unaware that when artists secure a space in the upper barn, they stay for decades in the same place, INSIDE a beautiful, lofty barn.

The incredibly beautiful location I was given to show my work at Art in the Barn, Barrington, IL. At least four of the 2-D artists and one jeweler in the upper barn had record shows. They all assured me that to do well at this particular show, one needs to be seen again and again while folks become familiar with your (my) work.

I was flanked by two painters with many years of followers and collectors (!) Many of the visitors commented how they enjoyed being able to view three different painters together. We each paint differently, our work complimented each other.

It was a new experience for me, to watch visitors come into our barn, walk up to my work, stop, and turn to position themselves to take the time to get a good look at my work. People stood in front of my work for a long time. I’ve never seen that before.
My paintings hung directly on the west wall of the 150+ year old barn. The barn and my paintings looked spectacular together on the beautiful barn wall.

Many Gifts
What a gift I was given, that beautiful west barn wall. Both my painting neighbors, plus the small community of artists who have been together in the upper barn for decades were gifts as well.
The two painters I was flanked by had been there 12 years and 20 years. Their time, wisdom, and the expertise they shared with me was also a huge gift.
The way I set up my display created a foot traffic path that had been absent in previous years. Both of my painter neighbors were thrilled about the new traffic flow.
I sold two medium sized originals and many prints. I came home with money. The interest so many people showed in my paintings was incredibly rewarding. I received lots of very thoughtful and meaningful feedback. Folks were comfortable about sharing how my paintings made them feel. They enjoyed the origin stories of my paintings as well.
“Your paintings look like places I remember, but they’re not.”
“Your perspective is so unusual.”
“You love color, don’t you?”
“They’re painted with house paint?”
“You’ve painted my memories.”
"Yes, the larger paintings cost $2500."
“I would never sell that painting.”
“The sky behind those top clouds could have been darker.”
“Your price point is too high,” said to me as the 2-D felt artist was wrapping up a 4’ x 4’ super colorful felted image that had just been purchased for about $2800 and another neighbor sold a painting for $1800.
“They need to see your paintings a few times before they’ll commit.”

I’ll be back.
I’m committed.

I’ve been painting snow
It wasn’t planned. None of the paintings were primarily about snow. The main focus of each painting was about something other than snow.
On January 1st I began painting daily.
It wasn’t planned, it was simply time to begin painting. Despite being a professional illustrator for 35+ years, it’s the first time in my life I’ve painted every day for months, creating images of my choosing — not what a client was paying me to create.
The midwest, where I live, we have four seasons. The geometry of our seasons is changing dramatically. There is no gradual on-ramp to spring, it arrives suddenly and full-blown, like a window shade snapping up unexpectedly. Bulbs push up from ground no longer frozen. Lady Admiral and cabbage white butterflies appear searching for nectar sources. Returning songbirds want fresh water for their daily baths. Arrows of geese fly north honking and gossiping. Great flocks of sandhill cranes return from southern states to start new families in their favorite wetlands. Sweet tender buds appear on trees and shrubs. Perfect rains keep everything watered and hydrated. Yes, the air smells sweet.
Then BAM! The extreme temperatures of midwest summers descend without warning blanketing us with almost unbearable heat and humidity. Our bodies do not have time to adapt. Rain seldom falls. Last summer I made what felt like a selfish and painfully expensive choice to water my gardens every few days. Several months later I decided to stop watering and wait for Darwin’s Survival of the Fittest theory to take over. I’m still not sure which plants survived last summer’s waterless culling and brutal heat.
The transition into fall happens at a pace that feels more manageable. Beautiful cool bright days and nights linger longer and longer each year. I was able to do some serious yard work and house painting until mid-November.
Winter comes on slowly. Cruel 20 below wind chills arrive in late January, but never stays too long. It can be unbearably cold in our houses. My daughter and I joke about how many layers we must wear in our homes we can only, and just barely, afford to keep heated to an incredibly chilly 66 degrees.

But…Snow
I began painting daily on January 1st. After a few weeks I had run out of interesting reference photos. I needed fresh inspiration.
Careful observation of the world around me is one of my mindful practices. I’m fascinated by what I see out every window in my new/old house. I’d not lived in a town with curbs, gutters, sidewalks, and alleys since college 35+ years ago.

I’m Painting a Lot of Snow
The views from inside looking out of my house at dawn, dusk, and deep night are fascinating. That’s what I’m painting, in the winter, in the midwest. Snow has become a huge character in my recent paintings. Initially I thought the sky was going to be a big character. In some paintings she is, in other paintings, she doesn’t even appear.
The night sky is back! I fell in love with painting the night sky in college. As a professional illustrator I used the night sky as a backdrop or to help tell the non-verbal story of an illustration as often as I was able. It didn’t happen often enough. To take the leash off and paint the night sky as juicy, rich and, as delicious as my heart’s desire, meeee — yowh!

Light and crisp shadows are big characters in my new paintings. Clear, contrasting colors and the contrast between inside and outside are also important in my new series of paintings. The use of a very limited color palette has been a wonderful boundary to work within. Thirteen small jars of different colored house paint are all I’ve needed so far to mix every single color necessary to make my paintings. When the season changes I’ll need to add a few more colors to my palette. It hasn’t happened yet.
Now, my in-town world is snow.
It’s important that my paintings are strong, clear, clean, and beautifully executed while still being loose. I’m mindful of the primary focal point and how I want the viewer’s eyes to move around each new painting. I’m mindful of the brightest and darkest points in each painting. I’m mindful of the point-of-view.
When making your own art it can be anything you want it to be, you are the supreme ruler of your universe — unless you’re working as a professional illustrator — when your primary mandate is to successfully pull the desired image from the client’s brain, create it in the material world for their precise need or pleasure and your profit.
I can, and you can too, change anything in our paintings. 35+ years of being a single mom, self-employed illustrator taught me to be super fast and good at rendering recognizable imagery. Creating a compelling composition is almost as automatic. Knowing how to make something pop or recede is second nature. Knowing when a piece is finished is a skill too. I always know and never second guess my decision.

The Simplicity of Snow as a Landscape Element
I’ve spent decades making illustrations to educate people about the natural world, its critters, plants, hydrology, geology, human history, and ecosystems.
No, I did not illustrate books — not mostly.
There was seldom snow in what I was illustrating. Now, elegant, glowing simple snow softly blankets most horizontal surfaces. Lavender-colored snow languidly rests in and on everything. Bright clear whites are few and far between, snapping and popping in each painting.
The world is a horrifying place right now. I spend time every morning watching the news, and then I turn it off. Some days I spend time considering the sheer folly of what I’m doing by spending the bulk of my time making paintings. Will I be weeping as I bag groceries in the local quick mart next fall because in the mess of our economy no one could or would buy paintings?
It could happen.

I’ll know next fall if I need to get a job. Until then I won’t worry and instead sink deeply, madly, and fully into the joy of painting exactly what I want to paint every day.

A year ago I made a brave decision to trust myself and go all out creating my own art. As a freelance artist, selling what I make and create is 100% how I pay my bills.

By contrast, the first 34 years of my career I was a freelance illustrator, creating art for hire. I was very successful at it supporting my two children and myself by drawing enough pictures each month to pay for...everything for decades. My business took a serious hit during COVID and it seemed that it would no longer support me. I had to pivot.

2024 was a good year. I sold a lot of original art, I had a month-long gallery show with one of my dearest friends, I won several awards, I painted two huge murals, I traveled to many of my favorite places to do art shows and hang out with friends.

Basically, I'm doing what I want much of the time, just like folks fantasize for their retirement! Only I'm not retired and don't have that monthly check coming in.

I had forgotten how much I love to paint and was reminded while painting murals in 2024. I spent time during the in-between of Christmas and New Year reflecting on the year behind and what to do differently in the year ahead. I realized I wanted to begin seriously painting.

The past several years I've been creating 2-D art by tearing paper and my old illustrations and gluing them onto canvases. I didn't want to make choices about what images to create and instead jumped straight into color and composition. It worked. I loved creating the art, talking to folks about the process and the why of it, plus I sold a lot of art.

During the in-between, I realized there was a whole collection of images waiting inside me but couldn't create them using torn paper because I wanted to work larger, so paint was the solution. I've amassed an interesting collection of house paints and decided to launch the new year by painting on large canvases using latex house paints. I've painted every day since the beginning of 2025 and ...wow...I've learned so much.

Every day I'm anxious to wrap up my pet and house chores to get into my painting studio and paint.

Trusting that my new body of work will sell at art fairs this summer feels even crazier than last year when I was tearing paper to make art.

Time will tell. Now I need to paint!