"Missing Their Songs" is ready for visitors 2/6/26 at the Simpsonville Fine Art Gallery

How the Birds Began

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what sparked it—but on December 1, 2025, I began a quiet habit of daily bird sketches.

Once I started, I felt compelled to keep going. It wasn’t planned as a project or a challenge—just an unintentional daily drawing prompt that somehow stuck. Each sketch was quick, usually ten to thirty minutes at most. I worked in various pencils on small 5x5 sheets of watercolor paper from a pad I had just picked up at Hobby Lobby.

After about fifteen drawings, I realized I had a small flock forming… and no real plan for them.

At the same time, I was looking ahead to the new year and knew it was time to refresh the work hanging at the Simpsonville Fine Art Gallery. I wanted to head in a new direction. That’s when the idea landed: a show centered around birds.

Eventually, a title surfaced that felt right—Missing Their Songs.

Memory, Loss, and the Songs of Winter

December 27 marked one year since my mom left this earth to see Jesus for the first time.

The joy of Christmas had still been in the air, but it mingled with the ache of remembering the final weeks of her life—the tenderness, the sorrow, the love that never fades. My parents loved birds. And one painting in particular—the bluebird—was made in her memory.

I didn’t finish it in time to show her, but I remember asking her about painting one when we’d seen a bird featured on the cover of a magazine. She loved the idea.

Naturally, I miss her voice. And especially her laughter.

In winter, I find myself missing the songs of birds too, along with the warmth of summer mornings. Those early hours—Bible open, coffee in hand, sitting on my screened porch while birdsong fills the air—feel like the quiet luxuries of the simple life.

That longing, I think, is what worked its way into the paintings.

January in the Studio

Those early December sketches quietly shaped January in the studio.

What began as small pencil drawings grew into watercolor experiments, oil paintings, and color studies—birds appearing again and again in different moods, poses, and palettes. Some playful. Some contemplative. Some bright with memory. Others softer, slower, still becoming what they will be.

January was full of both teaching and creating, and I loved every minute of it. Thursdays became especially sacred to me—six uninterrupted hours of painting each week, with every notification turned off and the world held at bay. That focused time allowed me to move between intimate watercolor studies and larger works on canvas.

I was always physically tired by the end of those days, but my heart was full—deeply grateful for this season of life and the chance to spend it making, learning, and paying attention.

What’s Next

Now the oils are dry and the watercolors are framed and all will be on display Friday, February 6, 2026. The gallery’s First Friday event will keep doors open from 5–8 p.m. that evening, and I’d love for you to come see them in person.

More soon—there are more canvases in need of my feathered friends. 🎨✨