I want to explain why we are inviting absolutely every last one of you to The Green Door Gallery art event on Wednesday. It’s taken me ages to write this out. It’s meant I’ve had to say his name over and over again.
In January we launched a mental health awareness campaign at the Irish Embassy. The inimitable “Darkness Into Light” team also donated an incredible 48,000 Euros to partner organisations that provide therapy training and mental health helpline services here in Belgium.
And here is your invitation to the art event this Wednesday:
Ever since my friend took his life in 2007, I’d been looking for a charity that supported people. Supported them in the way I believed my friend and his family had not been supported: I wanted to donate to something that helped individuals and families dealing with mental health crises and bereavement.
From the day of his funeral until the day of this year’s Darkness Into Light launch, I avoided every photo of him. Without thinking, I believed I could control my grief if I avoided reflecting on him. It felt like too much. I’d also, tragically but in a different way, refrained from reaching out to mutual friends. As if the pain would be too great and the floodgates would open. Me! Avoid talking? With friends! Can you imagine?
Then, 17 years later, after the speech when I FINALLY opened up, a family approached me and spoke eloquently. They described how some of us stop ourselves from connecting, even talking, to friends and family, as a form of control. I thought of a diagnosis in psychology: “Selective Mutism.” And a term in popular culture: “Stonewalling.” They explained that some people have such big feelings, they get overwhelmed, and in order to gain a sense of control, some people cut others out.
They had been discussing their own mental health relationships, but it sparked my own long-dark lightbulb.
I’d been burying my own grief in isolation.
I’d avoided looking at old photos.
I didn’t even mention his name casually until last year.
Around this time last year, walking with a friend Sarah Ironside she mentioned she was painting these hearts when she goes for walks. Sarah explained these yellow hearts help people process grief and connect to a charity that supports individuals and families. I was so inspired. I painted a yellow heart in my friend’s memory as we discussed the complexities of grief.
In the post I had written:
If you, or anyone you know are working through suicidal ideation or grief after the loss of a loved one, you might want to check out the incredible support and free services of the Darkness Into Light organisation: www.darknessintolight.ie
You see better than I could; I wrote his name in rain-proof paint, but I still couldn’t bring myself to say it regularly, even write it in my post online!
Sarah had written:
Here is the transcript of her whole post from May 2023:
I walked with my beautiful friend Tamar Levi. She is an artist and she painted her friend Dominic ‘s name with love, sadness and hope.
She told me how Dominic liked to do theatre where there was no theatre. He brought theatre audiences on boats, he was like a theatre doctor who made plays better.
But at 42 he took his own life to the immense grief and sadness of all who loved him.
HOPE – that is the word for me which defines my walks. I walk with the hope that someone will reach out and get help. I walk with the hope that together we can play a part in reducing the stigma that surrounds mental health problems.
Tomorrow I will write these words in lights in the park.
Hope. Dochas. Hoop. Espoir.
I look forward to waking my 60th walk together with people all over the world and sharing the same sunrise.
Thanks to your generosity my personal fundraiser is now at almost 7000 euros – but every euro counts and donations still welcome.
These were turned=away-from physical blindspots.. The memories of where he lived and where the funeral was held were too overwhelming.
I had so many blind spots. Sarah Ironside mentioned his name in her post. At that time, I’d been holding my grief too close to my chest. Believing it too personal, even for my personal friends to read on my personal wall.
There are also odd circles British society draws around who gets to grieve to the depth they feel they need: I wasn’t his girlfriend or mother, why should I be as shaken to my core as I’d felt?
Up until Sarah and I walked in 2023, I’d rarely mentioned him. Of course, he was referred to and grieved openly at the time of his tragic death and during the time of his funeral in 2007. Back then, I had to say his name to apply for time off work to attend the funeral. I requested bereavement therapy from my work. I’m sure his name was mentioned in those three corporate-office therapy sessions. It wasn’t until SEVENTEEN YEARS later, in 2024, this family, deep at the heart of an event close to my heart, surrounded by their community and friends, speaking of another grief entirely, external to my own self, only THEY helped me reach this private, hidden, personal epiphany: I had been stonewalling my own community around my own grief. My way of controlling my feelings had been to avoid discussion with mutual friends and certainly, to avoid any photos.
That evening, I went home and looked him up. His face flooded the internet. Newspapers, tributes, memorials, projects he’d done for Cornish community, the heritage community that grew from his theatre projects, a whole new theatre atelier built in his honour, credits for films I’d never heard he’d acted, productions I’d no idea he’d founded or scripts he’d fixed… articles and articles and articles… and even an entire photo album dedicated to a life of sensitive beauty.
I was stunned.
Of course I was not the only person mourning Dominic Knutton.
The manager of the Dutch language helplines here in Belgium had spoken only this evening of statistics. It was reported, on average, 130 people are affected by every individual life lost.
Dominic Knutton and author Paulo Coelho after a London showing of Dom’s adaptation & the UKs premier “THE ALCHEMIST”
I smiled at photos of his successes and laughed at photos of him playing instruments I didn’t know he’d even (tried to?) play.
I saw evidence of his naughty-academic playfulness in a Bacchanalia he’d done at the iconic Eden Project, his historical recovery of Ordinalia (three medieval mystery plays dating to the late fourteenth century,
written primarily in Middle Cornish),
even what a cheeky chappie he’d been as a child.
That evening I’d finally reached out and felt the parallel rays of all 130 people+ remembering my friend, our friend, with similar loving sadness, and suddenly I felt the isolate release after seventeen whole years.
Weeping, I emailed Dom’s friend and theatre producer, Jason Squibb:
Hello Jason, you might remember me, if not, that’s ok. Dominic Knutton and I were close. I’ve been a “Cornishwoman abroad” since then and I don’t think you and I have met in person since Dom’s funeral. At that time I felt a lot of guilt for not having been able to support him… [more effectively, through his darkest end thoughts]. I also really struggled with the bereavement (as we all did). At the time I felt I wasn’t able to help him, and the frustration there was not any mental health support that I knew of, was angry-making. At his funeral I thought about how much I wished there had been a free and qualified professional who could have talked with him in a way that might have led him away from self harm. So for years I was looking for a charity to donate to in order to make sure there could be support for people struggling like Dom had been at that time. Since moving to Brussels I witnessed a lot of people raising awareness for suicide and bereavement and mental health. I reached out to one of the organisers of the most transparently effective support groups and asked if I could donate and organise an event for donations to the 24/7 free therapy hotlines they run in 3 languages here. It’s taken us 4 years to get this event underway and yesterday, (with the benefaction of the European President no less!),
Roberta Metsola, the current President of the European Parliament shares her vision for greater mental health awareness in member states.
we finally launched the campaign. My artwork, inspired by Dominic’s illness is on auction and all donations go to the professionals on the phones helping thousands every year work through both the pain and processing that both Dom and we had to do without their kind of support.
All professional art photography done by Ahu Yigit at Atelier 34
Anyway, whether you remember me or not, it doesn’t matter. We both had big love for the same guy. I did this thing in honour of him and I wanted to share with you because, well, you’d get it. I hope hope hope other friends and families and colleagues and classmates and acquaintances don’t lose anyone even partially as important as Dominic was to us. I hope my illustrations help young people, especially, see that they are seen and these telephone lines help them feel listened to and these professionals support them away from the darkness that swallowed up our friend. I send you the warmest regards from Belgium and a big Knut kind of hug from, Just Another Person Who Loved Him
Jason responded!
Hi Tamar, yes of course I remember you! Wow, this is amazing. Great that Dom is not only remembered but continuing to influence others who meant a lot to him. I know Dom’s death affected so many people in different ways. But fantastic that you have worked so hard to provide support for those in crisis. Belgium is lucky to have you! Sending you warmest regards from Cornwall, much love xxx
We talked a little bit more online and Jason explained that Dom’s visionary founding of the Cornish Theatre Collective continues to thrive.
…I’m running the company now and since working on the Ordinalia in 2021, I’ve been trying to get funding for a play. The Knut is hugely successful in St Just, a wonderful community space...
Now the Artistic Director, Jason’s often juggling playwright, shipwright AND navigator. Fantastic current projects deliver large-scale outdoor epic theatrical experiences alongside touring theatre. Solid in the same values as Dom’s first Ordinalia, the Collective continues to function as a catalyst for communities to explore their own artistic endeavours. For those of you looking to support awareness and appreciation of Cornish cultural heritage, or interested in celebrating and interpreting our past: the collective works with freelance performers and practitioners and are developing the next exciting thing. Get in touch with them here.
…The Knut is hugely successful in St Just, a wonderful community space...
When Jason spoke of The Knut he helped me settle deep into the understanding that our friend Dominic Knutton’s memory is very much alive and still passionately active in the theatre world.
Art events coordinator Mary Ann Bloomfield managed to raise enough money to build a theatrical facility for the St Just community. It was that community that first worked together with Dom to revive the uniquely Cornish medieval Ordinalia plays.
I wrote:
… It’s just amazing how much community orbits his memory. Thank you again for all your hard work over there and all your kind words here. If, for whatever reason, you find yourself passing through Belgium, ping me a message. I’ll buy you a Belgian beer and a Belgian waffle with some Belgian chocolates so you can go back well welcomed
The warmth in our brief exchange was incredible. I hadn’t spoken with any mutual friends in 17 long years. I wasn’t even in the same VPN country, wherein I might’ve glimpsed award-winning shows, seen Jason Squibb acting in there: proximity might’ve inspired a more casual reflex to pick up the flippin’ phone!
The geographical distance was not the true divide.
Why do we do this do ourselves? Why do we look to isolate our feelings, to control what makes us human, why do we try to lock our little hearts in little boxes? Why do we sometimes hide when the truth is: community is one of the main healthy ingredients back to mental health.
Talking with friends or finding a community who are willing to discuss the trauma or tragedy or grief in your life is one of the biggest healing tools we can tap into.
I made the mistake of taking my own dang time finding my snail pace back to the place where I can heal more healthily amongst friends.
Please don’t isolate yourself.
If you have been through anything at all, there are others around you ready to listen, walk with you, remember with you, well up with tears and talk too.
In fact, aside from my friend and my art and my delayed epiphanies, the charity that I chose to support in my friend’s name, they are meeting for a community walk on May 11th. I’m just realising now, similar to Dom’s Cornish Theatre Collective, they too work to make a space for community. They hope that people who join the walk will find a space for their grief, an outlet for bereavement and a catharsis that can only come from shared memories and open hearts. You can join in sadness or in solidarity.
Hope to see you there. Learn your name. Learn the name of the person you might have lost. And learn how to say my friend’s name again and again and again too.
-T-
Here are some of the lovely things people said about the art yesterday that warmed my heart, or made me smile and will keep me motivated to keep making art for you:
“YES! YES! YES! That is EXACTLY how that place FEELS!”
“I can feel the sun on the back of my neck when I look at this one.”
“Could I buy a print of this one that is already sold? Even though it’s not the original painting, the feeling I get is always authentic.”
“There’s something mystical in your use of light.”
“I feel like I could take many different walks in many different directions through these landscapes.”
“This view is where my partner proposed just a few weeks ago!”
“I like that you used unexpected colours.”
“Wonderful paintings – so vibrant, alive and full of feeling!”
“I didn’t expect to see Greece and Belgium with these colours.”
“Your prices are really accessible, thank you. I couldn’t afford original art otherwise.”
“There’s something in the atmosphere of light between the trees that reminds me of the person I’ve started dating and falling in love with right now.”
“Very happy to be here.”
“Amazing work.”
“I’ve been on a pedalo in that lake! You should’ve painted me in a boat right there!”
“Thank you for these so personal colorful landscapes.”
“Thank you for this trip into the happiness of art!”
“These paintings are both feminine and masculine.”
Tervuren (Autumn), Belgium 75.5×113.5cm (29.7×44.6in) FRAMED €1200 Buy now. Contact me to discuss art shipment. Shipping costs excluded.
“Painting on the frames is really unique and exciting.”
“I love all the tree ones. I’m a trees guy.”
“You saw lots of colours in this place, you see a lot of the colours because you’re an artist, but I just see an excellent place for me to ride my motorcycle and have one of my greatest rides.”
“I would arrange them in my home in this way…”
“I need to bring back my wife before I buy because she is the boss.”
“I need to bring back my husband before I buy to check he enjoys it too.”
“I need to bring back my child tomorrow so you can inspire them the way you inspired me.”
My original idea of painting on the frame aims to draw the viewer into the scene, in a sculptural way.
This provides the art collector with immediacy for hanging.
The bespoke frames provide deep dimensionality.
This allows the viewer to step into a scene. Another window for their home.
Most of these works are painted through the canvas and over the frame. I felt bad that art collectors often buy a work and then have to take it for framing.
If I can provide them with a ready-to-hang piece of art, I save them that extra time and expense.
To prepare for this collection I hunted for the biggest and most beautiful antique frames from markets and auction houses in Athens, Greece and Brussels, Belgium. Then I affixed and painted both canvases and frame simultaneously.
I have not perfected the method but so far I’m told it’s both helpful and delightful. What more can I offer?
Colour Mixing & Texture to encourage dynamic eye movement.
Inspiration and energy came from artists I respect; the bespoke palette and mixed media of Andy Dixon, the bright textures of the Impressionists and Van Gogh and the Fauvist’s wild use of colour.
There are many ways in which the pandemic came into these landscapes: close quarters, disruption, questioning the value of my shared time, holding space for studio time, working with uneven light.
Colour Mixing
As a true artist in (imperfect) residence, I then developed a self-tailored colour palette that I worked hard to create myself through long colour mixing theory research and colour mixing practice sessions.
Cohesion in the Collection
All this so the cohesion carries from canvas to canvas across the collection. Even as I make these pieces I’m thinking about how they speak to each other and how we are going to install it. I was thinking about the Art Base gallery where the solo show would take place and considered how the pieces will sit best in the space. The goal here is that the audience stands in the gallery and receives a fully peripheral experience. The movement in each painting will draw the audience from one travel experience across to another, with salon style smaller paintings grouped at the back and no boundaries between them. Finally, the way I painted over the frame creates a sculptural depth that lends itself to getting lost inside these views.
Light to Dark then Dark to Light Again
If you come to examine the artwork even closer you might note the light to dark and then dark to light again order in which the paint is layered. This is the first time I’m working on canvases spray-painted with solid colours. I’m very driven by the shaping in Ori Reisman’s landscapes.
Although I don’t explore a human form in the earth as Reisman does, I aim to work the shaping of the land in a similar way that inspires a similarly human interaction, even though it’s not intended to be a human-sized view.
This is me trying to expand my skillset, widening my canvas, practicing grander sweeps, expanding what I can do and bringing you to the precipice with me and you can extrapolate from that what it means to you to stand in immense spaces.
Paint Texture
Childlike Innocence in Mixed Media
Due to the close quarters, I’ve been painting next to my 3 year old. She has influenced me. I mixed my use of acrylic paints and oil pastel to create a dynamic forward and backward motion of the viewer’s eye: from the background acrylic to the foreground pastel, we move through the scene.
Thanks to my daughter, I was inspired to replicate form with a childlike sense in the brushstrokes. For example, I thought very deeply about the innocence I wanted to convey in the form of the Temple on Sounio. There is an innocence in one’s experience of wonder when one encounters ancient monuments. It makes you feel small to see the history. I hope that textural peculiarity, the quirkiness in the lines and colours I chose, wakes up the dull feelings of ordinary scenes and gets the viewer excited about the unique vision we get when standing in the inspiring spiritual locations ancient people appreciated for the same reason.
Tidal & Air Movement in Space & Paint Speed
I thought a lot about texture because it offers something we don’t get from our screens. Paintings need to offer something more than what we get in the visual world of our screens. I asked: What do paintings do that screens cannot? I answered: The texture of the paint and the peripheral size of the canvas can outsize our peripheral experience and let us step outside ourselves, deeply experience the movement of the wind and air and leaves and water and receive that specificity of human perspective in a vast space.
Even if you are not familiar with these locations, from our travels in Greece and Belgium, even if you have not stood in the same spaces, I hope you agree, you feel a sense of space, feel their particular quality of light and catch a breath of the same air.
Gloss Varnish
The gloss varnish was also an important element. Products made by machines can make a smooth perfect flat surface. An impeccable glossy flat surface cam be made by the digital world. I asked: What can paintings do that cannot be done by photography or a computer or a machine? I answered: Dynamic texture that follows the shapes of the image and brings an overall sense of sculptural harmony to the piece. This is unique to painting and that’s why I do NOT try to apply the varnish as flat as possible across the surface of the canvas, but instead follow the movements of the painting’s forms and express the speed of emotive brushstrokes even with the varnish itself.
By shaping the solid forms with the paint texture, using mixed media to bring in a dynamic movement forward and backwards from the surface of the canvas, flowing the brush strokes to mimic tidal or hot air shafts away and around the nearly fish-eye lens enlargements of the horizon, I am working to enlarge one’s sense of space.
“I’m serious. I would love to have you make a painting or drawing inspired by current COVID-19 family life…”
14 May 2020 – Day 70 of our family’s Covid19 Lockdown in Belgium I wrote on Facebook:
“Out of curiosity, I timed and averaged across the interruptions yesterday. On average, during the moments when I explicitly told her I would be doing something other than engaging with her (e.g. working/cooking/going to the bathroom) my nearly 4 year old interrupted me every 15 seconds. For those of you who don’t understand what it’s like to be in lockdown in an apartment with no garden, with no childcare support, with a young child, imagine your thought process being interrupted on average every 15 seconds between 6.30 am and 8pm every day for 70 days. It’s INTENSE, people.”
Many, many people messaged me publicly and privately with solidarity but one message was bit different.
Mark Carlson wrote:
“Tamar, can you paint this feeling on canvas?”
“Uninterrupted?”
“I think the interruptions would be part of the art. Or maybe the interruptions are the art. Can I commission a painting about this from you?”
“If you don’t mind the painting taking 900 years to complete [smiley face emoji].”
“Sounds like you already have a working title for the work [winky face emoji].”
“Haha! SOLD to the patient man in the front row.”
Then he sends me a private message:
“I’m serious. I would love to have you make a painting or drawing inspired by current Covid 19 family life. No rush and no expectations on my part. I think your talents are pretty cool.”
“Oh my goodness! I thought you were joking. I’d be delighted to do this project. Thank you. Will have to brainstorm how to depict all the big feelings. Thank you!”
“I really like your work and would love a way to remember this experience in life… I would like to hang something on the wall. You have the liberty to choose what it is. Thanks!”
“This is an amazing opportunity to be creative. I’m excited and inspired to do something that relates specifically to this era. I’ve started brainstorming ideas.”
“Please choose the size and materials that fit your inspiration. I will worry about finding a place to hang it. This moment in time is so rich in emotions. I am happy to are inspired.”
“Thank you so much for this opportunity, and for your faith in my abilities.”
21 May 2020:
At first glance this illustrated painting could be mistaken for a landscape, or a city park view. In fact, the subject is more precise. The neighbours. The pandemic allowed us to meet the neighbors. Can you see them on the balcony? People we’ve never spoken to before, cheering with us every night for the medical workers during the corona virus global pandemic, then shouting <<À demain!>> “See you tomorrow!”
I titled the painting <<À Demain!>>
As I was painting on our little balcony, cautious of the way the sun moved around the buildings and whipped the shadows out and around the other balconies I thought about how this art collector allows me to stay true to my creative inspiration, and yet is telling his own story about what he wants to see in a work. He trusts me to execute it well, he knows my interpretation might be akin to his own, as he’s known me for a few years and has a pretty strong grasp on my values through observation. At core he’s telling me all that matters to him is the creative documentation of a never before experienced, now globally shared event. I guess you could then conclude that we have collaborated on this project, through years of knowing each other as neighbours, this mutual knowledge, the trust, the creative skill set and the creative commission… yes, a unique collaboration befitting a public display of gratitude, as in the painting.
With Mark’s encouragement, I painted from our balcony, immortalizing a unique moment we shared: Every night my husband and child and I join the neighbours in a public display of unifying gratitude. See what looks like a trumpet in the turret? Someone in the turret next to them plays what I think is a trumpet, or maybe a French horn. He was always just inside the window, so the external image is from my imagination. He’s only learning and it certainly doesn’t sound perfect, but it brings tears to my eyes to hear that almost-salute. It’s the intention that counts. This painting is really about something unique to our experience of the pandemic; a public practice of gratitude, every night in our neighborhood.
The first time it happened I was holding my child in one arm, waving with the other, my husband shouting <<À demain!>> and I knew I’d never forget how unique that moment was, shared with intimacy with unknown neighbours made known by our shared experience.
I invited Mark to come see the work unfold as I painted it, standing beneath our balcony. I painted en plein air, attempting with all my might to get it all in one go, to commemorate the theme of a singular moment in time. This watercolour and mixed media painting is not as belabored as acrylic works because Mark asked me to include family life in the theme. There is no way I could have gotten through so many layers of colour and mixed media if I had even attempted oil paints. So, it’s the urgency in completion that brings the dynamism of the watercolour and mixed media to this canvas. I hope the unrestricted movement of the oil pastels, for example, can be seen by the viewer to bring a sense of immediacy to the image.
“No restrictions, whatever you want, just documenting this time.”
I was a little frightened that whatever may be my vision may not suit Mark’s aesthetic taste, but more than that, I felt deeply, truly honoured by the trust he put in me and incredibly impressed. For this is how this person, this art collector, demonstrates his creativity: with a truly original brief that pinpoints an era in time.
We spoke on the phone before I delivered it by hand.
Mark said, “Throughout history artists painted historical moments, I am yet to see art based on this historical event.”
I realized more than just creativity, there is a journalistic element here. As a professional video journalist, he’s expressing and exploring his own high level career through another high level medium; documenting historical events through this creative art commission.
The finished piece is the largest watercolour I’ve ever done.
A couple of details about the work: I have been primarily a portrait painter for many years, and portraits are about a likeness, capturing the essence of a person no matter the angle. In contrast, whenever I create a landscape I work hard to make it at an angle that is always accessible. The audience is invited to step inside. My landscapes create another room, an extension in your home. You look through your wall to another world that welcomes you.
We are the viewers, from our balcony. I do not comment on the tight quarters of our apartment. Or the length of time we’ve been indoors. I don’t comment on the very few vehicles left on this busy street. Or the empty sky that normally buzzes with airplanes from Brussels airport and helicopters covering EU summits. This scene is quiet. To people who know this park, this neighbourhood, like Mark and his wife Anita, they could tell you that’s part of the era I’m capturing here: a quiet street that is not normally a quiet street at all is a statement in itself. It’s a subtle statement. It’s one for people in the know.
I know that they enjoy our neighbourhood park as much as we do and I hoped that by immortalizing the tree-lined avenue they commute through every day it would be a painting they could carry with them through life, taking the park and the light and life it brings wherever they go.
I hope it’s clear, even though this pandemic has instigated truly tragic deaths and insolvency, my current work is still trying to share a positive and bright approach. It’s not gloomy or apocalyptic or expressing the frustrating circumstances around these strange pandemic times. Instead I’m expressing the way we connected with our unknown neighbours every early spring evening with light, bright colours and a dynamic movement in the brush strokes as the wind passes through the deserted park trees.
There’s a slight sense of grief in the way I depict our neighbourhood park from a distance. It’s not available to us now, only expressed to those familiar with it’s form, those who might spot that I excluded the park gates, any opening to the inside of the park, in this particular image. You’re welcome to enter the painting but we were not welcome to play in our park during the pandemic. If reading between the lines, that’s the only slight sadness on the canvas. The park play was literally policed and so the inner park was not alive to us. Here we are on the periphery. The periphery of the park and leaning over our balconies to applaud with others at their periphery too. The split-second depicted here is joy, the joy of meeting people from where we live, connecting to where they live and greeting them evening after evening. Even though the trumpet may not be in tune, it was still stirring. This piece may not be illustrating the sensitivities of loss or pushing abstract boundaries as Shock Art, but the positivity I try to portray is actually deeply, stubbornly and even politically reactionary. I encouraged Mark and Anita, to frame it with something bright like goldenrod yellow. It’s the sunlight on the leaves and the joy in this landscape that is reactionary to the anxiety portrayed in the current newscape. It may be Mark’s job to tell us the current news in images, but it’s my job to help you sit with them for years to come.
8 June 2020:
“It’s everything we could have wished and more!” ~ Anita Holten Carlson
“Unbelievable. The level of detail is amazing. This painting really invites you to walk right into it.” ~ Mark Carlson
“Thank you Mark! It was a very exciting project.”
When Mark sent this image of the work in a temporary frame I was really shocked how much more detailed it looks from a distance. While painting on our tiny little balcony I forgot to step into the house, to stand back from it while I was painting, to see how much detail carried up from ground level to the audience at a distance. I hope it does the same for the viewer, carrying vibrant details up to the viewer remembering this unique era at a safe distance in the future.
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Brief Bio
Educated in London and Cambridge, Tamar has published as an author, illustrator and editor of multiple award-wining books designed for families, classrooms and doctors. Her prized artwork is highly collectible, commissioned by private collectors, sold at private auctions and exhibited in galleries around Europe.
