I am a life long artist with stacks and stacks of drawings, prints and paintings most recently concentrating on my view of Paradise: the birds, trees and leaves of my swampy forest of Texas and my fascination with the Romanesque and Gothic Architecture in Spain, Portugal and Western France.
All the images you see here from my photos beautifully produced for you by high quality printers in the USA, Canada and England. All have been properly researched and I hold the copyright.
If you are a manufacturer or retailer, I have contracts ready to be signed for the licensing of my images or the outright purchase-let’s talk about it.
Here are the details:
I live in The Woodlands, Texas, married to a super-patient man, Mom to two grown people, full-time artist developing a surface design business.
• Graduated in 1977 with a BFA in Printmaking, minor in Painting from the University of Texas at El Paso.
• For years a full-time non-profit volunteer for schools, churches, community art projects, community gardens, Boy Scouts of America.
• Deeply committed Christian with many years of working for various parishes in fundraising, building committees, facility management, teaching, outreach programs, bible studies, retreats, liturgical art and design
Society for Catholic Liturgy (associate member)
Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem
The Woodlands Art League
Conroe Art League
She Shopped Till She Dropped
The Anne Klein green linen mid-calf pleated linen skirt caught her eye.
Hanging from the waistband was a tag with large type claimed in all caps: “WASHABLE PLEATED LINEN SKIRT”. The last thing she ever said to me was: “Finally in my lifetime. A washable pleated linen skirt! Do you know how much my dry cleaner charged me to set the pleats in my white linen skirt?”
She was dead 2 minutes later of a massive heart attack, in front of Foley’s at The Woodlands Mall, with two pairs of pink shoes (one pair were pumps with a pink pompom and kitten heel, the other pink snake skin slingbacks with a peek-a-boo toes) snuggled in her grandchildren’s stroller.
A serious shopper, a committed fashionista who would rather shop than stop by the emergency room to check out chest pains, my mother joyfully shopped till she dropped. She grinned ear to ear that she had found not one pair of pink shoes but “TWO! And on sale!” For her tombstone, my brother suggested: Here lies the lean, mean, shopping machine that went by the name of Jean. The shoe salesman at Foley’s was surprised to see my brother returning the pink shoes. Once he was reassured that the shoes were no longer necessary, the salesman connected the dots: “She was the lady who died out front?”
She had a tremendous eye for styling, always looking for the classics at good prices and almost never returned anything. With an encyclopedic memory of what she had in her closet, every rack was reviewed for a possible addition. She knew her sizes, what looked best on her, which accessories would add the special flourish. She was careful in her selections and wore everything she bought for years and years. I do remember one of her boucle coats, green and gold and white, that she passed onto Eloisa, who worked for our family. One Sunday morning we saw Eloisa waiting for the bus dressed in the boucle coat with matching leather gloves, her hair stylishly pulled back, her dark glasses giving her a Jackie Kennedy look. She watched Eloisa chat with her friends at the bus stop and said grudgingly “that coat never looked that good on me”.
Walking into her closet looking for the best outfit for her to wear into eternity was very difficult. Not a large closet, it was a marvel of organization: beautifully arranged skirts, blouses, pants, dresses all segregated by type, color, season. Hangers were padded and scented, every item properly hung, clean and well pressed. Full length garment bags held the off-season clothes similarly outfitted. I chose one of her favorites: a deep, rich pink silk. I spent the better part of that afternoon in her closet, smelling her perfume, sliding the clothes back and forth remembering her in each outfit.
Stacked over the clothes were 80+ pairs of shoes, still in boxes with little tags in her handwriting: “Black leather 2 inch pumps” separated by color and use: work, casual, formal.
A separate closet held her sweaters, coats and jackets. Each one had a pair of matching gloves in the right pocket and a color-coordinated pair of cheater glasses in the left pocket. Her scarves and costume jewelry were carefully stored in the chest of drawers next to her closet.
I hosted a “Come Shop” party the week after her funeral. These women, who were her good friends as well as co-workers, were initially hesitant to take her clothes. With a bit of champagne, and my encouragement, one by one they took her outfits-complete with the coordinating scarf, shoes, costume jewelry, jacket/coat with matching gloves and cheater glasses. I had to continually reassure them that I had already selected my favorite pieces for myself and she would want her carefully selected clothing to be worn and enjoyed. These ladies then decided on a day to wear her outfits to work to celebrate her style. We all laughed that Heaven for her would be to have a limitless Neiman Marcus credit card and everything on sale.
She died April 13, 1998. Rest in Peace, Mom.