Italy has become a mild obsession. Ever since my first trip in 2009, I’ve paid attention to every detail—the history and stories, the food and wine, the films and books, the cultural adorablenesses. Beauty is abundant.

I quickly realized I needed additional modes of expression. Language was essential. I don’t study Italian because I need to, but because there are ways of feeling and thinking that are inaccessible any other way. Painting emerged from that same longing.

Each painting begins with noticing something beautiful and wanting to capture it in water and color: a Fiat Panda pulling into the piazza on a crisp autumn morning, a curving balcony above a bar closed for winter, the blooms of Italian primavera.

I can never paint enough geraniums, wisteria, irises, roses, lavender, and peonies. I love urns and stone walls, cypress and olive trees, winding roads, and mysterious villas that conjure imagined lives and owners past.