​As an artist and photographer, I have learned to use the camera as a study tool. I can perceive something, whether it's a vast cityscape or the tiniest detail within it. I am captivated by these sights. I need to freeze them, to arrest the moment. I want to halt its progression and isolate it from the relentless flow of time. It's like holding a glass cube, orb, or marble that I can examine repeatedly, a timeless object of curiosity on my mental shelf.

Other times, I rely on my camera as a security blanket. It emboldens me, sparks my creativity, and diminishes my fears.

On this particular day, we visited Montpelier, Vermont. My husband took me to all his favorite spots from his adolescence: streets, bridges, rivers, and coffee shops.

I share all this to expose my vulnerability. I adore my husband and was excited to explore one of his beloved towns, a place that significantly shaped his identity. When we first met, he would regale me and our friends with enchanting tales of Vermont and its people. It was a different world, a place where people cared for one another, looked out for each other through harsh winters, and did it all out of love for their community. The stories of Vermont and the concept of neighborliness held a meaning I couldn't fully grasp, but I wanted to understand.

​I share all this to expose my vulnerability. I adore my husband and was excited to explore one of his beloved towns, a place that significantly shaped his identity. When we first met, he would regale me and our friends with enchanting tales of Vermont and its people. It was a different world, a place where people cared for one another, looked out for each other through harsh winters, and did it all out of love for their community. The stories of Vermont and the concept of neighborliness held a meaning I couldn't fully grasp, but I wanted to understand.

​I find this goodness and kindness both inspiring and intimidating. As I walked the streets of Vermont, I felt challenged to cultivate my own compassionate nature. I was surrounded by everyday heroes, a town where individuality was celebrated and judged by no one and cared by all. It was a place where people had endured long, cold winters and found ways to make life enjoyable. 

Maine wasn't even on my radar until I was in my thirties and met a great friend who would eventually become my husband. He had moved from Vermont to Maine and had traveled extensively throughout the Northeast before we met. His stories of nature, clear smogless skies, stubborn rocky coastlines, and trafficless roads captivated me.

The next decade was a whirlwind of photography, great jobs, odd jobs, and road trips across the northern US. I love exploring, finding local gems, and indulging in regional specialties. One such discovery was the Trevett Country Store in Boothbay, Maine. 

Tucked away on West Barters Island Road, this quaint country store offers everything from essentials to seafood delights, including fresh Maine lobster. The outdoor seating area provides a serene view of Back River, a picturesque scene that encapsulates the essence of Maine. Since my initial discovery, I've sought out opportunities to return to Trevett Country Store. The combination of delicious lobster and breathtaking views makes it an irresistible destination.

​Maine has an allure, a blend of fresh air, locals, and stunning natural beauty. It's a feeling that lingers, a hint of something special in the fresh air, a crisp personality, the assurance of vast green forests nearby, and the deep, clean blue waterways teeming with life. All of this exists in Maine and is highly valued by its residents.

​New Orleans, the Crescent City, enticed me in my mid-20s. I followed the tourist trail, soaking up the French Market, Bourbon Street's revelry, and the swamp's mysteries. But one night, a different kind of enchantment seeped out from behind a diamond-cut window and an iron gate. It was jazz – raw, intoxicating, and overflowing with joy. It was love at first sound.

Preservation Hall became my sanctuary. I stayed until they closed, night after night, enthralled by the musicians. They weren't just playing; they were breathing life into the music, the sounds echoing off the worn floorboards.

This is where photography entered my story. Every detail – the talented musicians, their instruments, the signs, even the chairs – whispered tales of countless melodies played and lives touched. I felt compelled to capture it all, to document this temple of jazz and its soulful inhabitants.

Preservation Hall isn't just a venue; it's a living testament to the enduring power of music. Here, amidst the brick walls and the rhythmic pulse, I feel a deep sense of belonging. It's as if this small space was where I was meant to be, creating, capturing moments, and losing myself in the music's vibrations.

​This passion for preserving this legacy fuels my photography. I want everyone to experience the magic of Preservation Hall, the feeling of being transported by music. My photographs are an invitation to step into this world, to feel the energy, and to understand why this place holds such a special place in my heart.

Perhaps, someday, my ashes (I could only hope) will rest here too, a final testament to the music that gave my soul its rhythm. But for now, my lens continues to document the magic of Preservation Hall, ensuring its story lives on.

​For those of you new to the City of Lights, there's no better way to start your love affair with Paris than getting lost in its charming streets. Today, let me whisk you away to the iconic Pont Alexandre III, a bridge that gracefully stretches across the Seine. Take a deep breath, savor the Parisian air, and let the city embrace you.

A Photographer's Paradise: The Right Bank

On this particular stroll, I decided to focus on the Right Bank's captivating sculptures. The first sight that stopped me in my tracks? The magnificent gilt-bronze statues by Emmanuel Frémiet.  Renommée des Sciences (Fame of the Sciences) and Renommée des Arts (Fame of the Arts) exude a timeless grace, their forms a mesmerizing blend of power, fluidity, and raw energy.

Gazing down from their pedestals are contrasting yet complementary figures: La France Contemporaine (Contemporary France) by Gustave Michel and France de Charlemagne (France of Charlemagne) by Alfred Lenoir. These sculptures embody the rich tapestry of French history, whispering tales of past and present.

And then there's the lion.  A masterpiece by Georges Gardet, its presence is both powerful and strangely comforting.

The Inseparable Dance:
​Science and Art

The very essence of the Pont Alexandre III right bank celebrates the beautiful relationship between science and art.  These seemingly disparate disciplines intertwine here, each dependent on the other.  Science provides the foundation – the knowledge of bronze, the tools, the understanding of scale. But it's art that breathes life into the form, imbuing it with beauty, emotion, and narrative.

For aspiring artists, this bridge serves as a profound reminder:  Why choose between science and art when you can embrace them both?  A sculptor needs the scientific understanding of their medium, but it's the artistic vision that transforms it into something extraordinary. Paris embodies this philosophy perfectly, showcasing the exquisite results when these two forces collide.

So, the next time you find yourself in Paris, take a walk, explore, and let the city inspire you.  And who knows, maybe you'll find your own artistic muse waiting on a bridge,  captured in the interplay of science and art.

Ask anyone who knows me – the tried-and-true holds a special place in my heart. That's why classic cars make me weak at the knees. The gleam of the chrome, the plush embrace of the upholstery, the very colors sing a nostalgic tune. Owning one someday feels like a golden sunset on the horizon – a promise whispered on the breeze.

​For now, I capture their essence through my lens, documenting every detail that fuels my daydream. Windows down, hair in the wind, cruising to the sounds of Preservation Hall Jazz... that's the picture of retirement bliss I hold dear.

​If you ever find yourself in Brooklyn, I highly recommend taking a moment to explore the local grocers. Each market has its unique flair, and there is an undeniable artistic touch present in every one of them. I am consistently fascinated by the stylized displays that can be found throughout these markets. On a recent visit, I was captivated by the impeccably stacked vegetables in the crisper area. It was like witnessing a work of modern live art in its purest form. The stock person had masterfully created an artful arrangement that transcended mere functionality. As I admired the display, I couldn't help but feel that by choosing to bring one of these vegetables home, I was not only acquiring a delicious ingredient but also taking a small piece of vibrant Brooklyn art with me.

The Thomas Crane Library in Quincy. 

​The Thomas Crane Library in Quincy, Massachusetts stands as a testament to the timeless beauty of knowledge and the artistry of human expression. Its soaring architecture and radiant stained glass windows evoke a sense of awe and wonder, like a grand cathedral devoted to the worship of learning.

Within its walls, we enter a hallowed sanctuary where words and ideas take flight, like a symphony of buzzing bees or the graceful dance of butterflies in metamorphosis. Here, we find ourselves suspended in a cocoon of knowledge and inspiration, ready to grow and transform.

Like a secret garden or an enchanted forest, the library beckons us to explore its depths and discover the treasures hidden within. Each book is a precious gem, polished and cut to perfection, ready to reveal its secrets to those who seek them.

And yet, the library is more than just a repository of knowledge. It is a living, breathing entity, sustained by the generosity and dedication of its supporters. Like a divine patron, they have created a sacred space where these texts can flourish and thrive, providing a safe haven for all who seek to open their minds and hearts to the wonders of the world.

In this sense, libraries are truly the coolest, for they represent the boundless potential of the human spirit, and the unyielding power of our collective imagination.

Despite having several layovers in Chicago throughout my travels, I had never actually visited the city until a few years ago when my husband and I were invited to attend a dear friend's wedding. We had a wonderful time exploring the city and indulging in its delicious pizza, that it quickly became one of our favorite places in the US. 
On a recent layover, traveling east from the SF bay area, we had a stop in Chicago. While on the tarmac,  I captured a photograph that showed our newfound friend: the city of Chicago in the distance. I've found myself eagerly longing to reconnect with this friend.
I miss the city dearly and hope to visit and explore its streets once more.