Hello, my name is Holly.

I am a visual artist based in Southeast Michigan.

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About My Work

My Story

My journey as an artist has been a winding path, fueled by a lifelong fascination with both visual and written art forms. For years as a young adult, I pursued graphic design, a "safer path" that offered a creative outlet but often left me feeling unfulfilled and disconnected from my truest artistic passions. As a self-taught artist, I've had the freedom to explore and experiment, constantly learning new techniques and pushing the boundaries of my craft. This approach has allowed me to bring a unique perspective to my work, often drawing on skills I honed during my 19 years design experience. These past experiences, particularly in understanding visual impact and production, have surprisingly informed how I approach my paintings. For instance, when I choose to integrate unique elements like neon signage, it's often the very first part of the concept, allowing me to build the entire creative work around that focal point.

My Creative Catalysts

In 2019, at a personal low point, a friend invited me to a live painting event as part of the Festival of the Honeybee in Ypsilanti, and that evening, something profound shifted. Creating "Hive Mind"—a painting depicting a skeleton with a honeycomb brain—was the spark I needed. It rekindled a deep love for art and, unexpectedly, a passion for building community through shared creativity.

This renewed artistic drive truly transformed in late 2020 when I began working with an art therapist. This was the catalyst for me to start creating work for myself. Initially, I still worried about what might sell, creating pieces with vaguer themes to reach the widest possible audience. But as I continued, the focus on sales faded, allowing me to fully embrace art that held deep personal meaning. This period also saw the emergence of Ivy, an ever-evolving character who appears frequently in my work. She began as a personification of my own self-critical voice, a "villain I could put a face to". Over time, Ivy shed that antagonist role, becoming a conduit for my experiences and thoughts. She is neither purely good nor evil, but a human navigating an unpredictable world—just like all of us. Through her, I create fictional narratives that mirror my complex emotions, translating them into visual scenes essential to my self-care journey and artistic process.

My Work

My art often pulls from the aesthetic of vintage pulp novels, especially mystery stories. I'm drawn to the visual drama and intricate narratives, though I adapt them to feature the strong female characters I love to paint. Ivy, often depicted in a trench coat, has even been playfully dubbed "post-apocalyptic Nancy Drew" by some who've seen her at art fairs.

Visually, my pieces almost always inhabit dark, nocturnal, or ominous settings. There's a particular comfort for me in these more macabre and eerie scenes; it's where my hand feels most at home. My distinct red and green palette, sometimes accented with yellow and blue, is something someone once called a "fever dream," and that resonated deeply. I want my colors to feel otherworldly and unsettling upon first glance, encouraging viewers to linger and find their own deeper meaning within the subject matter.

Inspiration

The inspiration for my work is deeply rooted in life experiences, transforming challenges into visual narratives. There's usually an emotional catalyst, whether it's processing personal growth, navigating difficult topics like grief and death, or embarking on a journey of sobriety.

In 2021, I made the official decision that alcohol was no longer serving me, a concept that has often appeared in my work, such as in "Last Call" or "Absente."

Notably, my mother's tragic death in December of 2024 also drew me to the canvas, allowing me to honor her and mourn visually. Art has become a vital tool, enabling me to process intense emotions in a healthy way, rather than resorting to destructive coping mechanisms. It has also helped me cultivate a community around shared experiences of grief and loss.

I often use symbolism to infuse nuanced themes of grief and recovery into my pieces. For instance, cardinals frequently appear in my work as a powerful symbol of loved ones visiting from the afterlife, a belief my mother shared with me before she passed. Nocturnal animals also hold a special place in my art; their adaptability and quiet strength resonate with my own "nocturnal" nature. They embody the mystery and introspection that perfectly complements the atmospheres I aim to create.

While I begin each piece with my own personal narrative, I intentionally leave most of my work open to interpretation. The beauty of this journey lies in seeing how others connect with the art in their own unique ways, leading to incredibly moving interactions and moments of human connection.