But while my paintings are rooted in the real, it is the junction between sensation and fact that interests me. My paintings are meant to exist in that gray area between representation and abstraction, where light and solid form are given equal consideration and are almost interchangeable. The streets, the buildings, the sky, the cars—they're almost incidental as recognizable objects. It's the detail of an individual shape, an expressive brush stroke, and the way that everything comes together that excites me. The moments may pass, but the feelings remain.

Bio: I'm a wanderer. Growing up, my family and I lived in more than 18 different places of suburban sprawl. As an adult, I've shifted toward more urban environments, but I've continued the same movement. Despite my best efforts, I don't travel light—the hobo's stick from the fairy tales is, in my case, a large moving van full of comfortable furniture, hundreds of shoes, kitchen tools that I never use, and boxes upon boxes of canvases.

No matter where I've been, painting has always been in my blood. When I was six, I made greeting cards for my family and friends. At nine, I painted a watercolor that my parents still have hanging in their home. I gravitated towards art throughout my education, and received a BA degree in studio art from Smith College, but soon after that I began a career in advertising and didn't pick up a brush for the next decade.

Over time, I found my way back to my passion. Thematic ideas and flashes of the perfect composition crept back into my head until the desire to paint again became so strong that I began taking classes and set up a studio in my dining room. After rebuilding my portfolio, I set off for New York where I got an MFA degree in Painting with academic distinction from Pratt Institute. But the West Coast was calling, so in 2006 I moved to Seattle with my boyfriend Chris and set up shop in a large, sunny studio in Pioneer Square. We love it here, and plan to stay for a while.

I've shown my work regularly at galleries in San Francisco, Philadelphia, Princeton, New York and Seattle. I'm currently represented by the Allen Sheppard Gallery in New York, and in Seattle I belong to La Familia Gallery, an artists' co-op in the Tashiro Kaplan Arts Building.

Interview

The bleary abstraction you've brought to these urban scenes seems to shift the focus of your craft from the hustle and bustle of city streets to the urban experience itself. These images are rich with the emotional distortions that are often central to city living, everything from the blur of routine to the vertigo of over-stimulation. How did you come upon the idea of representing the urban environment this way?

It's a reflection of personal experience—the way that I live life in the city. I love all that cities have to offer, yet sometimes I feel ready to explode with the need for simplicity and quiet. As I'm walking down the street, shopping in a store, waiting for a bus…the details are just too much sometimes. So I get into a zone, focus on the important things and edit out the rest, so that I can do what needs to be done. My emotional state definitely affects my visual experience. It's just the way that I see things, and I transfer that experience to the canvas.

It's also a culmination of stylistic choices that I've made over time. A lot of people tell me that my paintings resemble the way they view the world after a few drinks, or without their glasses. I actually have pretty perfect vision—I see all of the nooks and crannies, and I can read street signs that are still blocks away. But I prefer softer edges, and I'll often go over a painting two or three times to soften anything that I think looks too crisp or hard. I feel that I can more accurately convey the feeling of a moment with expressive brushstrokes than with details.

In your artist statement, you mention that night brings a strange romance to otherwise depressing cityscapes. That transition is certainly alive in your work. But what's interesting is that your style allows the viewer to see how inadvertent that beauty really is. Given the right perspective, streetlamps and taillights can transform from the purely functional into something greater. What do you believe that says about our relationship to beauty in urban areas?

It says to me that beauty is there if we want to see it, but we may need to look harder and be willing to consider things in a different way.

Some things are conventionally beautiful, like the rows of flowers that line the outside of bodegas in Manhattan, and some aren't. That long line of cars snaking down the street is an obstacle, but you don't have to let your frustration consume you; you can take a deep breath and spend a few moments admiring the visual impact of hundreds of taillights creating a crazy red glow underneath a deep blue sky. There's dreariness and ugliness in every city, but there's also energy and vitality. There's a reason that cities exist, and that's to enable people to connect with other people. The things that we see are, in fact, both functional and symbolic—they're the markers of our connection and interaction. We can wallow in the negativity that we see, or we can find the positive side and move forward.

You also allude to the divide between sensation and fact. What is it about city life that makes reality more ambiguous? What have been some of the challenges you've faced in expressing this disparity on canvas?

The first part of your question is something I haven't considered before; however, here's one theory. Cities offer a lot of options—different neighborhoods, professions, even lifestyles—and every option opens up the possibility for a different kind of reality. The variety is wonderful, but it also means that every day is a cacophony of mixed messages, problems and ideas. Many of us don't fit squarely into one particular neighborhood, profession or lifestyle—so we hover, moving between different places, groups of friends and careers. Who are we really? We're the sum of many disparate parts, and as a result, reality for us isn't linear or clear.

I choose to pursue beauty…at least my version of it…but with underlying themes of urban energy and social connection, the work is meant to be more than just decorative. My biggest challenge is to avoid creating something that's fussy or precious while riding the line between abstraction and representation.

The area between sensation and fact is a wonderful gray area, where there's room for a lot of creativity. I was told once that I shouldn't make work that existed in that gray area between representation and abstraction—that this area was no man's land, and I would inevitably fail. So I decided that this was exactly what I wanted to explore, and it's now my favorite place to be. Some of my imagery is more representative and some of it's pretty unrecognizable, but when you put it all together the meaning becomes clear.

Could you talk about the technical aspects of these paintings? What tools and methods went into them?

First I use Photoshop to plan things. I take hundreds of photos and spend hours editing, re-coloring, and cutting and pasting different parts together. The resulting image might be a tiny sliver of a photo that I've taken, or it might be a "Franken-photo" of sorts. The printouts are generally not very polished, but it's my way of figuring out basic color and composition.

Then I do a freehand drawing on my canvas—painted lines are repeatedly drawn and wiped out for hours until I'm satisfied with the composition. But the forms that come out of those drawings eventually turn into something else. Layers of paint that are transparent and opaque, incredibly thick and watery thin are applied one after another, back and forth, until everything overlaps and interacts. Glossy pools of alkyd resin exist on the same canvas as swatches of paint so thick that they look like cake frosting, along with everything in between. The photographic sources are eventually forgotten, and the focus is on the colors, shapes and textures that have developed out of a process that looks deceptively loose, but is highly controlled. Pour concoctions on the canvas…move them around…train the edges…wipe some of them away…start again. Painting wet on wet is something that I really like, and I often mix color right on the canvas.

My painting tools have changed over time, but they've always been pretty straightforward. In the beginning it was stiff hog bristle brushes and palette knives, but I've moved on to softer brushes that don't leave as many individual bristle marks, and reserve the palette knife for mixing. Lately I've gotten pretty attached to two particular lines of brushes by Soho Art Supplies and Daniel Smith. None of them are very expensive, but they produce great brushstrokes and have the perfect amount of spring to them. In addition, I'm also a fan of Galkyd and basic odorless turpenoid. And because my studio is extremely dusty, I always have a pair of tweezers nearby to pluck out any debris!

As you continue to develop as an artist, do you intend to continue studying the urban landscape or are you moving in another direction?

I'm still emotionally invested in the urban landscape, and I still have plenty of ideas about how to execute it, so I don't see myself walking away from it yet. But a number of other ideas have been floating around in my head for a while, and I'm ready to start exploring them as well. They have to do with man's impact on his surroundings, and his relationship with the natural world around him, so there's a certain level of continuity with the current work. There are a few different paths forming in my head…and I'm going to try all of them! My first forays in these new directions will show up in my August show at La Familia.

Looking at your resume, it seems you have a considerable amount of formal training. What were some of the most valuable lessons you learned while studying art in college?

Surround yourself with intelligent people who will challenge you, but make sure that they know how to give constructive feedback. Nothing is more frustrating than hearing someone say "I don't like it" but offer no reason why.

Pick and choose the feedback that you follow carefully. If you listen to everyone, you'll end up running in circles and getting nowhere. Find people who you trust, and pay attention to what they say…but ultimately, the best advice will rise to the top.

Technical art classes are necessary. You'll be able to more effectively communicate your ideas if you actually know the mechanics of creating art. A good concept is not enough if the execution isn't well done. Some people will argue with the importance that I place on technique, but it's something that I firmly believe.

You also spent a decade in advertising. How has your experience in advertising helped you as an artist, both creatively and in terms of finding an audience for your work?

I should probably explain the kind of work that I've done in advertising, so that my answer gets put into the proper context. Interestingly enough, in that arena I'm not an artist—I'm a planner and account manager! So a lot of my work experience is not directly transferable, at least from a creative perspective.

But there are a few things. All of my business planning has, for better or worse, shaped the deliberate way that I approach the creation of my art. Years of evaluating other people's work against strategies and goals have taught me to view my artwork with a more objective critical eye. My overall problem solving skills are definitely stronger because of my business experience. And once the work is done, I certainly know the right steps to market it. My business network has also proven to be a good audience for my paintings—work friends bring interested buyers, and the common ground and personal connections make the sales process easier.

Who are some of the visual artists creating today whose work you most admire? Why?

I feel like I should have run out and reviewed the last six months of Art in America for this question! Most of the people I'm going to mention are not quite that well known—a few are—but they're all talented artists who I expect to see featured on the cover of a major magazine someday soon.

These are just a few of my favorites; there are so many more artists out there who I love and respect that I feel guilty mentioning just these people, but it's a start. Shawn Barber and Chris Sheridan make incredibly rendered figurative paintings that hint at complex stories. Kellie Talbot, Ryan Molenkamp and Cheryl Molnar provide skillful interpretations of the ways that man has influenced his surroundings. Mario Naves, Jenny Balisle and Amy Kupferberg create rich abstract work using unconventional methods and materials. Each one of these artists is intensely dedicated to the creation process, and demonstrates both conceptual insight and technical skill. They're well respected in the art community. And then there's that mysterious "yes" factor, where their work speaks to me for reasons that I can't quite explain.

In Seattle, you are a member of an artist-run space called La Familia Gallery. What have been some of the benefits to promoting and presenting your work in this venue compared to a traditional commercial gallery?

Less commission, for one! La Familia only keeps 18% of sales, versus the usual 50% of a traditional commercial gallery.

Artist-run co-ops are surprisingly well respected in Seattle. While high-quality work is obviously the most important factor in the format's success, location is also part of the charm. La Familia happens to be in a prime spot: it's part of the Tashiro Kaplan building, one of the most prominent art buildings in Seattle. That means a lot of built-in foot traffic and exposure to people who are seeking out good art.

In addition, artist-run galleries promote a level of networking that doesn't typically happen at commercial galleries. I have wonderful relationships with the gallery owners that I work with in New York, Philadelphia and Princeton, but I don't really know the other artists in their programs; commercial galleries aren't typically set up for that kind of interaction. At La Familia, members meet on a regular basis to conduct business, share ideas and even critique each other's work.

Lanae Rivers-Woods, the Director of La Familia, has also developed a few art programs that extend our exposure beyond the physical gallery space. For example, Scene in Seattle is a gallery tour that includes visits to key galleries and studios throughout Seattle, and it's been written up in several local news publications. La Familia artists' studios are, of course, part of the program.

Lastly, it's important to point out that showing at La Familia doesn't preclude me from showing somewhere else. There are obligations to being a co-op member, but it's not an exclusive arrangement; in fact, Lanae works hard at encouraging visits from other gallery directors, with the hope that we'll get picked up by one of them.

Do you have any advice for other artists interested in setting up a similar venture?

Pick your location carefully. You can gain momentum quickly by piggybacking on existing success, and finding a venue that's in the middle of an already established art walk…or you can make a splash by being the first to introduce art to a new area. Either way, make sure that you're surrounded by businesses you respect, because they might just bring new customers your way.

Pick your fellow artists carefully, because people's assessment of your work and its value will be affected by the quality of the other artists that surround you.

Get to know other galleries and their owners, and be nice! Each gallery has its place in the larger picture, and you never know when they might refer someone to you.

Even though there will likely be a decline in financial support for the arts this year, there are certainly opportunities for artists to continue to advocate the arts and support one another. Aside from creation, what are some of the ways artists can help keep art afloat in this poor economy?

I have a few ideas on that topic. The examples that I'm going to give are from Seattle, but I know that other cities are rising to the challenge as well.

We can create networking and cross-promotion opportunities. Rather than developing competing resources, art organizations should get together and produce a single go-to resource for the latest news and shows. One good example of this is the work done by s3a, a group of artists and galleries that have joined forces and created an online "home" for Seattle's urban art scene. Participating organizations also support each other on their individual blogs, newsletters and electronic invites.

We can provide more accessibility to good work that's affordable. For instance, Artreach is a non-profit group whose mission is to "increase awareness of fine art among young professionals in Seattle by giving them access to approachable, affordable art." The group holds 3-4 shows a year in various alternative spaces. The artist selection process is extremely competitive, the invite list is huge, the attendees are excited and focused, and sales are usually pretty impressive!

Consider alternative forms of payment and bartering work for other services that we need. For instance, one of Seattle's hospitals allows artists to pay for medical services by volunteering time toward their art therapy program. Many artists I know don't even have health insurance, so that's an incredibly useful opportunity.

We should consider donating work from time to time to charitable auctions…but let's be selective and limit our involvement to the most reputable (preferably arts-related) organizations. I'm amazed at how many people think nothing of asking us to give away our work for free! Donating to every cause that comes along devalues the work and, ultimately, our profession.

Let's use our knowledge and influence to help businesses put better art on the walls. An increasing number of companies these days feature rotating art exhibits, but some places show much better art than others; as a result, opinions are mixed on how respectable these kinds of venues really are. Some do it particularly well: at The Hideout in First Hill, Greg Lundgren's carefully selected installation is a fascinating "who's who" of the local contemporary art scene. We should reach out and help more businesses curate great art shows like Greg's. The more exposure people have to truly fine art, the more it will help us all.