What am I working on?
Last updated 08.19.25
Even though I have a clear vision for my paintings before the first brushstroke, I always need the piece to « speak » to me at some point. Each painting has to guide me on where it wants to go, which can take time! In the meantime, I stay busy with other projects to keep the creative flow going. Here’s what I’m working on right now.
As I was taking reference pictures for Le Ventre de Saint-Germain, I noticed a dedicated crew of people working tirelessly behind the scenes at this bustling market. Three times a week, they arrive to set up, and come back to dismantle, to clean, and to take out the trash. I had taken several pictures of them before leaving Saint-Germain-en-Laye, but unfortunately, I lost those during my move to Costa Rica. Recently, I asked my husband if he could take some for me while he was visiting our eldest son. Though I wasn’t sure if he would capture the essence of what I had in mind, I was pleasantly surprised with a hundred images—many of which I could have taken myself. I was deeply moved by the thoughtfulness of it and felt he truly understands how I work.

This painting completely slipped through my fingers! It was meant to be a view of the street, framed by towering trees — but it had other plans. Now, it’s becoming something else entirely, perhaps just a small fragment of a much larger vision I’ll share in time. Its title is Costado Norte I, following the address conventions I so love in Costa Rica — for it marks the north side of a park I love.
New home, new technique. I now live right across a park with stunning trees, and ever since we arrived, I’ve been eager to paint them. As I started with my usual layered approach, I discovered a new way to paint leaves that I really like. I plan to contrast this flat technique with a more detailed and realistic style for the people walking their dogs underneath.

The view from my apartment inspires me so much that I decided to paint it again, but this time at night. If during the day, the activity is mostly concentrated beneath the trees, at night, it’s the upper part of the scene that comes alive.
This small painting is my way of mourning Vapirusa, our 16-year-old miniature pinscher who was a constant companion to my children. She passed just weeks before our move to Costa Rica. As we contemplate what to do with her ashes, I’ve painted a peaceful, little cemetery that I imagine she would have loved.
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