My Last Oyster Collection: What Water Remembers

Years ago, when I was still painting and releasing all kinds of collections, I painted a group of oysters.

And you all went a little wild for them.

What surprised me wasn't simply that the paintings sold. It was how personally people connected with them. One person saw summers at the river. Someone else thought about long dinners with friends. Other people would look at a painting and just know which oyster was theirs.

So I kept painting them.

Nearly ten years later, oysters have become one of the subjects I'm most known for as a coastal artist—and somehow, I'm still not bored with them.

No two are ever the same

That's probably what keeps me interested.

Oysters are as varied as people. Their years are written across their surfaces in ridges, rough edges, unexpected turns and soft interiors. Even when I'm painting from an actual shell, I rarely paint exactly what I see. I push the blues. Invent a green. Soften something here and exaggerate something there.

Sometimes I discover strange little shapes inside them that I didn't intend at all. They're a bit like Magic Eye puzzles that way. Everyone seems to see something different.

And sometimes an oyster painting practically flies out of me.

Other days, you'd think I'd never painted one in my life.

After ten years, they can still make me work for it.

The oysters that live with me

My connection to oysters isn't limited to painting them.

I love eating them. My family collects beautiful shells. I bleach and dry some of our favorites and tuck them into little corners around the house. We find them washed up when we're walking along the beach.

I've also learned that if you're going to paint from life, you should clean the shell well unless you'd like your studio to smell truly terrible.

And you need to work fast around my cats. Apparently my still life is their lunch.

What Water Remembers

All of this eventually led me to the name of this collection: What Water Remembers.

The collection includes fifteen original oyster paintings, from intimate 5 x 7 pieces to a 36 x 48 statement painting, in soft coastal blues, creams, whites, greens and neutrals.

But the name is about more than the water.

I keep thinking about how we all carry evidence of where we've been. Time changes us. Life leaves marks. We are shaped by people, places, difficult seasons, beautiful ones—and somehow all of it becomes part of the person we are now.

Maybe that's why these funny little shells have held my attention for so long.

And maybe that's why people find their own stories inside my oyster paintings.

A river house. A childhood beach. Dinner with people you love. Salt air. Bare feet. A place where you can finally exhale.

The painting doesn't have to tell you what to remember.

You bring that part with you.

What Water Remembers releases October 10, 2026. Email subscribers receive first access to the collection on October 9.

This will also be my last collection of original oyster paintings for quite a while.

I'll tell you more about that soon.