I never really thought of myself as an artist.

I had always loved beautiful things—the way light could change a room, the emotion held in a photograph, the stories tucked inside the ordinary—but I never believed I had the talent to create art of my own. Friends would sometimes tell me there was something creative in me waiting to be discovered. For a long time, I wasn't quite sure I believed them.

Then my husband, Jeff, and I opened a photography studio.

Behind the camera, something began to change. I wasn't simply learning how to take a beautiful photograph; I was learning how to see. I became fascinated with light, expression, composition, and all the little details that could turn a portrait into something more than a picture. I especially loved creating classic, heirloom portraits—the kind that didn't simply preserve how someone looked, but somehow held a little of who they were.

I had found something that made my heart sing.

In 2019, I discovered the world of digital painting and began studying with a portrait artist who taught how photographs could become the foundation for something entirely new. Jeff and I both felt that this was the next step for me, so with his encouragement, I dove in.

And I was hooked.

What began with portraiture gradually became something much larger. I found myself wanting to paint not only people, but places, memories, ordinary objects, quiet moments, and the things that stirred something inside me. Over time, I began developing a way of creating that felt distinctly my own—soft, painterly, filled with light, and rooted in story.

In April of 2023, after more than 34 years of marriage, the love of my life moved to Heaven.

Losing Jeff changed nearly everything about my life. It changed me, too. But it did not take away the gift he helped me discover.

His encouragement remains woven into what I create. Even now, I sometimes finish a painting, sit back and look at it, and wonder, Would Jeff like this? What would he notice? What would he tell me to change?

I can almost hear the conversation.

There is something beautiful to me about knowing that a part of what I am doing today began because someone I loved believed there was more in me than I could yet see for myself.

I see it now.

Today, I am an artist, writer, and storyteller. My work has grown from portraits into paintings, books, reflections, and other ways of preserving the things I don't want us to hurry past—faith, memory, beauty, love, loss, home, and the quiet moments that often mean far more than we realize while we are living them.

My story has taken turns I never would have chosen, but through all of them, I have continued to create.

And perhaps that is what I hope to offer through Bolduc Fine Art: something beautiful enough to make you pause, something meaningful enough to make you remember, and something lasting enough to carry a story forward.