Blog / 2026 / Impermanence
March 11, 2026
I talk about the “more money = better person” idea that’s so prevalent in American culture in this post dissecting the secular version of the prosperity gospel. This video discusses the simple life that’s necessary when you’re a full-time artist.
Over the last four years living in Lambertville, New Jersey, I’ve made a number of artworks for the front door of my apartment building, often to decorate holidays like Halloween, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. Last year, I made this painting of the building’s façade as a love letter to my downstairs neighbors and a bit of whimsy for everyone else. Unfortunately, the owner of this property isn’t renewing our lease because they’ve decided to remodel the building.
If you like my work and you’re into the idea of helping me with moving expenses, the original Ladybugs on Daisies artwork is available for $1200, plus shipping (and tax if you live in New Jersey)—contact me to purchase. You can buy prints and pretty things of the image here in my print shop.
And if you own an apartment in Lambertville that’s around 700 square feet and you’d like to see the property rented by artists who contribute meaningfully to their community, please reach out.
Ladybugs on Daisies
2026
acrylic on unmounted canvas
26 x 20 inches
VIDEO TRANSCRIPT
I’m an artist who married an artist. I know a lot of people judge our choices. They think that at least one of us should have gone with a more lucrative profession.
I know this because people tell me so, usually via significant looks or gentle prodding, but sometimes with overt statements and invasive questioning.
And I get it. After all, I, too, live in the world. I was raised to equate a large salary with a successful life. I’ve been told again and again that taking out a massive loan in order to quote-unquote own a home is more certain than renting a place. And, sometimes, like when yet another landlord refuses to renew our lease so that they can sell the building, remodel, or invite a family member to move in, I’ll wish I’d decided that making as much money as possible was my priority.
But then I come back to myself. I remember that I’m a ladybug on a daisy, or a daisy that, for a moment, has some ladybug visitors. I remember that we’re all ladybugs and daisies, and I am glad to be rooted in my impermanence.
Maybe this post made you think of something you want to tell me? Or perhaps you have a question about my art? I’d love to hear from you!
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