There was a quiet, steady rhythm to the Provincetown harbor the way the light settled across the sky, the way the tide moved with its own kind of memory. For nearly fifty years, this rhythm shaped the work of the artist, who returned again and again to these familiar patterns with brush in hand. Watercolor was her chosen companion: a medium that, like the landscape she loved, resisted control and rewarded patience.
Much of her work was rooted in attentive observation of clouds gathering above the horizon, of the delicate gleam of a still life, of a child’s face caught in a moment of reflection. Whether painting portraits, harbor scenes, or the curve of a flower’s petal, she was drawn to what lingered quietly in view. The Provincetown sky remained a constant for her: expansive, expressive, and ever-changing.
She received her Bachelor of Arts from the Massachusetts College of Art and studied with artists who profoundly shaped her sensibility. From Henry Hensche, she learned the language of light and color; from Jim Forsberg, a deepened sense of abstraction and atmosphere; and from Robert Cormier of Fenway Studios, nearly a decade of classical training in portraiture within the Boston School tradition. These mentors taught her not just discipline, but how to listen to the subject, the medium, and the moment.
In parallel with her life as a painter, she wrote over thirty short stories, later collected into a memoir. Writing, like painting, was for her a form of close attention—an effort to turn the ordinary into something luminous. Her world, divided between Boston and Provincetown and enriched by nine children and thirteen grandchildren, offered landscapes both personal and profound. These lives and places were not separate from her art, but deeply woven into it.
Her watercolors never sought spectacle. They honored the slow accumulation of light, the gravity of the everyday, and the quiet beauty that reveals itself when one is still long enough to see.
