When I was a child, I read a mystery book by Wylly Folk St. John called The Secret of the Seven Crows. It was set in an old mansion surrounded by sand dunes, sea oats and twisted live oaks on the southern Georgia coast. The plot centered around a strange riddle, but it was the rhyme inside the pages that completely captured my imagination and never left me:

"One crow means sorrow,

Two crows mean joy.

Three crows a wedding,

Four crows a boy.

Five crows mean silver,

Six crows mean gold,

Seven crows a secret that’s never been told."

I vividly remember the feeling of turning those pages. It wasn’t just a story; it was an atmosphere. St. John had a gift for weaving Southern gothic charm with genuine suspense, and her ability to build tension out of shadows and secrets completely captivated my imagination. I became obsessed with the idea that beneath the surface of everyday life, there was always a deeper, untold narrative waiting to be uncovered.

That childhood fascination never truly left me. It simply matured, shifting from the pages of a book onto the canvas.

The crows in these paintings are not just birds; they are keepers of secrets.

For me, this series bridges the past and the future. By painting these crows and preserving the mysteries that shaped my own imagination, I am able to fund new chapters for others. The proceeds from this series are channeled directly back into our local community, helping families and individuals write their own stories. Because sometimes, the best part of a secret is sharing it with others.

THE SECRET OF THE SEVEN CROWS

Seven Crows a Secret

Four Crows a Boy

Three Crows a Wedding

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The Crow Variations

Every great mystery has its main volume, but it’s the quick, loose sketches in the margins that often hold the most energy.

While working on my main Secret of the Seven Crows collection, I found myself driven by the pure movement of the birds themselves. I wanted to capture their silhouettes quickly, without the heavy weight of a massive canvas. That impulse sparked The Crow Variations.

Think of this series as the musical variations on a classic theme. Based on the exact same coastal mystery and that haunting childhood rhyme by Wylly Folk St. John, these pieces are smaller, simpler, and more focused.

Because they were created in a swift, fluid production style, the composition is stripped down to the essentials: a dramatic silhouette, a wash of rich color, and a single moment caught in time.

Because they are smaller and require less intricate collage layering, The Crow Variations are a more accessible, less expensive way to bring a piece of this narrative into your home.

They are simple, intentional, and grounded—but their purpose remains exactly the same. Just like their larger counterparts, a portion of the proceeds from every single variation goes directly to funding local community charities. They prove that a piece does not have to be massive to leave a lasting mark.

Nocturne No. 7

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The Du Maurier Echos

My love for Daphne du Maurier was a gift from my mother. Throughout my entire childhood, I remember her reading books that always featured haunted covers with mysterious, shadowy women. When I was older, she finally handed me her well-worn copy of Rebecca, and my awe of du Maurier’s world was born.

I wanted to paint this series in a way that would evoke that exact same atmospheric, haunting spirit that captivated me as a young girl. Using my process of Narrative Mixed-Media Romanticism, I built these canvases to feel like old secrets, layering vintage text, modern spray paint, and deep, moody oils. My hope is that I have succeeded in capturing the gravity and romance of du Maurier's worlds.

MY COUSIN RACHEL

What drew me to My Cousin Rachel is the agonizing, beautiful suspension of truth. Is Rachel a manipulating murderer, or simply a deeply misunderstood, independent woman trapped by the suspicions of others? Daphne du Maurier never gives us an answer, and that tension is exactly what I wanted to capture on the canvas.

I was driven to map out this psychological mystery through conflicting layers. The painting begins with a foundation of classical collage—which I then intentionally disrupted with a modern, flourescent spray-paint underpainting. The final oil layers emerge from this chaos, focused on a heavy, classical silhouette obscured by shadow. Like the novel itself, the textures are rich but dark, inviting you to look closer while refusing to give up their secrets easily.

REBECCA

Rebecca is a masterclass in gothic mystery—a story where a house, and a ghost who never actually appears, become the most powerful characters in the room. The psychological weight of Manderley, standing dark against the stormy Cornish coast, has lived in my imagination for years.

To bring this narrative to life, the composition relies entirely on dramatic contrast. I wanted the viewer to feel the overwhelming presence of the past which threatens to destroy the present. The background is a dense, physical accumulation of vintage text, completely buried under a dark layer of oils. An isolated figure in a fiery dress marches unapologetically up the staircase engulfed in flames. It is a visual testament to how old memories can completely anchor, or haunt, a space. Is the figure Rebecca? Mrs. Danvers? The never named second Mrs. de Winter? I will leave that up to the viewer to decide...

JAMAICA INN

In 2022, I had the opportunity to check an item off my bucket list. While traveling in England, I made my way through the moors to the doors of the Jamaica Inn, even splurging to stay in the Daphne du Maurier suite. The inn, steeped in history, stands like a vigil on the side of what was once just a lonely dirt path. Sitting there, I could feel the history of the walls speaking to me, and I strove to capture those whispers in the wind on this canvas.

Du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn takes us down into the mud, rock, and spray of the Cornish moors. It is a gritty, dangerous story of ship wreckers, isolated coastlines, and a young woman fighting to keep her footing in a treacherous world.

This piece required a much more tactile, raw approach to texture. Instead of smooth finishes, I allowed the materials to fight each other. I built up dense collage layers to convey the profound isolation of the moors, giving the painting physical depth. I used aggressive, sweeping strokes of spray paint and heavy-bodied oils to capture the chaotic energy of a storm rolling off the sea. This piece is definitely for a collector who wants a statement piece full of movement.

Don't Look Now

Don’t Look Now could be argued to be du Maurier’s darkest narrative. Taking place in the claustrophobic waterways of Venice, it is a story about the fragmentation of grief, the weight of what we lose, and the terrifying tricks the mind plays when we wander down the wrong path.

The composition captures that haunting sensation of wandering through the mist, unsure if what you see around the next corner is a memory or a ghost. The contrast between light and dark is at every turn in Venice and I captured the feeling of uncertainty by using a strong base of fluorescent spray paint covered by dark, heavy oils. It is an incredibly emotional piece about the fleeting nature of a moment and the persistent ghosts left behind by a broken heart.

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