Echoes of a Kingdom: My Journey to Bhutan

It’s been far too long since I last wrote here — bad blogger me! But if there were ever a reason to return, this is it. I have the joy (and still, honestly, the disbelief) of sharing some news that has moved me to my core.

This September, I will be traveling to Bhutan for the opening of my new exhibition, Echoes of a Kingdom, under the royal patronage at the Wangduechhoeling Palace Museum. The show will be part of the national celebrations marking the 70th birth anniversary of His Majesty Jigme Singye Wangchuck, the Fourth King of Bhutan — a true Bodhisattva King whose leadership has inspired not just a nation, but people across the world.

Longchenpa’s Gaze, Tharpa Ling, Bumthnag, oil, acrylic and gold ink on canvas, 60” X 39”

This invitation is both a professional milestone and a deeply personal honor. My connection to Bhutan began years ago, during my first visit to this extraordinary country. I was struck immediately by its beauty — not just the mountains and monasteries, but the warmth, grace, and kindness of its people. I’ve returned several times since, each visit deepening my appreciation for the values woven into Bhutanese life: compassion, harmony, and an enduring respect for the land.

Pilgrim’s Pause, oil on linen, 28” x 32”

The works in Echoes of a Kingdom were created specifically for this occasion — a new series of oil and watercolor paintings inspired by Bhutan’s profound cultural, psiritual and environmental legacy. They are my way of honoring the visionary leadership of His Majesty, who brought the concept of Gross National Happiness into the global consciousness and guided Bhutan through an era of remarkable transformation.

Painting this series has been an act of both homage and gratitude — an attempt to reflect, in color and form, the sense of wonder and connection I feel when I am in Bhutan. The exhibition will be on view at the Wangduechhoeling Palace Museum from September through December 2025, with the opening celebration on September 25.

After its debut in Bhutan, the exhibition will travel to selected cultural venues across Europe and the United States — but to me, Bhutan will always be where this work truly belongs.

Until then, I’ll be here in the studio, brushes in hand, heart full, counting the days.

Sacred Step, oil on birchwood panel, 24” X 18”

Time Passes Slowly

During the winter and early springtime of each year I come to paint in the mountains of Colorado and New Mexico and this year, Utah. The long drive across the United States from the East Coast is magical. Along the way, in this vast beautiful country there are many wondrous landscapes and I’ve often incorporated the elements from the journey into the paintings I work on in my studio in Colorado. It’s endlessly inspiring to touch into the variety of landscapes and deeply connect with the environments and colors of the East, West and Southwest.

Sketches from the League

I consider myself an eternal student. I’ve been studying with Max Ginsburg and Sharon Sprung at the Art Student’s League of New York, two realist painters with different approaches. I’m deeply appreciative of the instructions I have received from each of them and of the League as an institution, where visual art in all its many forms is celebrated, nurtured, and preserved.

With the utter luxury of two models per session, it seems almost sinful to find myself gazing at the moments between sittings. Yet what I have loved and observed quietly and absolutely relished are these candid moments of students, teachers and models on break. It’s become a practice of mine to capture them in a photo or a quick sketch and then imagine them as paintings some day in the future.

At the Waterfront

Happy Harbour, oil on panel, 18” X 24”

“From My Window”, oil on canvas 18” X 24” is a painting from the series of oil paintings inspired by views from my studio window. It sits at water’s edge in Brooklyn, the last building remaining from the Irving Bush shipping terminal. The windows of my third floor studio face lower Manhattan and the New York Harbor. In the winter the trees, having shed their leaves, reveal the Statue of Liberty across the water. The landscape outside my studio windows provides endless inspiration. In this seemingly forgotten part of New York, millions of bananas used to arrive at the terminal from South America. Now the docks, large slabs of concrete falling between the old wooden pilings provide home to Canadian geese, small trees that miraculously sprout from the cracked concrete, and groups of young boys who come to fish and play.

The harbor is always busy; barges and tugboats do their mysterious dance, cargo ships await their turn, the orange Staten Island ferries glide back and forth at regular intervals. An occasional yellow water taxi sprays by and the seagulls wheel about and announce the coming breezes. Pure magic—where one would least expect to find it. This is my favorite kind of auspicious circumstance and I rejoice in being able to pay homage to every wondrous ordinary day there.

Recently I completed a series of small oil paintings, studies for the larger ones in the future, from the Brooklyn waterfront and I’m excited to share them with you here.

In the Realm of Water Lilies

After some years of not remembering my dreams, a few months ago I had a very lucid dream that gave birth to a new series of paintings. The content of the dream is not as important as the transformative energy it brought forth.

Friends Forever, pastel on paper, 50” X 36”

Carl Jung explained dreams as a kind of “shaped energy,” not yet fully formed emotions or thoughts released by the subconscious and poured into narratives by higher regions of the brain. Modern psychologists and neurologists, armed with imaging equipment have taken things to a more technical level, speculating that dreaming is the brain’s way of dumping excess data, consolidating important information, keeping us alert to danger etc.

For an artist, I believe, dreams can be an inexhaustible fountain of inspiration and expressing them a way to self reflect in a deep and transformative way. It brings me great joy to put down on paper and canvas the images from the lotus pond dream and share them with you.

Coming Up for Air, pastel on paper, 55” X 30”

The lotus-pond diver series was inspired by a recurring dream, and it is undoubtedly a response to the collective awakening of women (and men). The lotus, or water lily, traditionally symbolizes compassion, and the woman surging up from the mysterious darkness of the pond may speak to an awakening. These pieces are important to me personally, an essential part of my path as an artist and a woman, and more broadly significant in the context of the current societal shifts in regards to feminine wisdom and strength. This has become my koan*, one I will be pondering for a long time, deciphering it through painting. The human figures in the paintings are inspired by the Japanese pearl divers (amas**), who contain joy and strength in their bodies, at once vulnerable and indomitable in the vast, cold waters.

*ko·an = a paradoxical anecdote or riddle, used in Zen Buddhism to demonstrate the inadequacy of logical reasoning and to provoke enlightenment.

** a•ma =  Japan is renowned for its extremely rich and unique culture, saturated in traditions that other cultures have lost in the modernization of the world. One of those is the sacred tradition of Ama divers — a powerfully romantic custom of women free-diving for oysters, abalone, seaweed and other shellfish wearing nothing but a loincloth and goggles. Women are also praised for their self-supporting nature and ability to live independently, thus, making them more suited to the profession. What’s most astonishing is the old age to which the Ama continue to dive; some carry on the art well into their eighties, spending much of their life at sea. 

Let's Dance

Today CBS news reports: Brooklyn City Councilman Rafael Espinal (D-37th) introduced the bill to repeal the law, saying dancing doesn’t need to be licensed.

“Artist, musicians, businesses owners, workers, and everyday New Yorkers looking to let loose will no longer have to fear the dance police will shut down their favorite venues,” Espinal said in the news release Monday. “We are doubling down on our commitment to keep New York as a true sanctuary city and we will not allow a law that has historically been used to suppress and oppress various groups, continue to stay in our books.”

This morning in New York Mayor Bill de Blasio signed a repeal of an old law prohibiting dancing in the city's bars and restaurants. It is a law, known as the cabaret law that was put in place during prohibition era 91 years ago, in order to patrol speakeasies. It specified that a cabaret license was needed if dancing was to be allowed in the bar.  Only a small fraction on NYC bars have the license and the last time the cabaret laws were used to crack down on bars and restaurants was during the Giuliani era. The repeal will go into effect in March.

To celebrate I am releasing a new open edition of prints of my popular Jazz Club painting.  and will release a limited editions of ¡Baila! and Habanero, which you can pre-order now. Order before December 14th for delivery by December 24th.

¡Baila! limited edition prints, 22" x 30" edition of 50 signed and numbered, SOLD OUT

Panteleon Social Club, large scale limited edition prints, from 60" X 42" to 24" X 17", SOLD OUT

NOON AT THE MARKET

NOON AT THE MARKET

In my home city of Zagreb, every day at noon, a cannon sounds from the old town tower. It marks the passage of time and alerts the citizens to the fact that it is now officially lunch time - time for a break, a walk and midday meal followed by a nap. Though it sounds off at noon each day, it tales everyone a good two hours to finally pause. The pigeons oblige by rising in large swirling clouds in the main square and markets until they sett;e again for their own afternoon rest.

At the market it signifies the near end of the day's commerce and the time when the latecomers will enjoy the fruits of their tardiness - slightly wilted but steeply discounted strawberries, lettuce, cheese and eggs.

The moment immediately following the big boom hangs suspended for what seems like a long time, enveloping the bustling downtown in a silence pregnant with the possibility - of an afternoon triste, a chance meeting with an old friend, an hour of solitude, a new green skirt, a pause in one's mind stream...

The original pastel has been sold but the image is available in open edition prints.

NEW YORK

We've been in New York City for a few months now. My family and I. Each of us trying to find our relation to this vibrant, pulsing, humming, screaming, shimmering city. It is at times a soothing presence, more often than not, an irritating one and in interesting contrast to our quiet and spacious existence in colorado and New Mexico. Yet, it gets under your skin, this place. If you allow yourself the space to quietly observe the river of life around you, it becomes a magical, mysterious celebration. I've hardly ventured past our own neighborhood, generously placed between two large parks, but even in brief walks around the block there is so much inspiration and feeling to this place. The birdbath on 99th street, the multitude of shapes and sizes of dogs, often mirrored by their owners, the strains of violins, sopranos, pianos, cellos, basoons (we live in a neighborhood of musicians as we are relatively close to the Lincoln Center) offering a soothing soundtrack to our walks, beyond the more jarring one of sirens and truck horns. The dancing iridescence of the Hudson River often greets me in early mornings alongside the neighborhood rat who I try to visualize as the cute one from Ratatouille but fail every time. I consider myself a mere visitor here, passing through for a few years for the sole purpose of our son's musical education. But, with no small amount of trepidation, I admit that I'm falling in love.