Red Dirt Girl

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Red Dirt Girl Painter | Photographer | Adventurer

WHAT THE DESERT REVEALSI spent many of my summer days in the Southwest desert—off the grid and in the heat. The hikes we...
10/05/2026

WHAT THE DESERT REVEALS

I spent many of my summer days in the Southwest desert—off the grid and in the heat. The hikes were short, but there was so much to take in and capture for my Desert Wanderings series.

I kept returning to the marks of erosion. Water, wind, and time carving the land, revealing layers, wearing others away. A landscape in constant flux, even when everything around me felt still.

These are the places I carry back to the studio.

The fall equinox arrived with warm light, a chill in the air, and rain that makes every color feel a little deeper.Chang...
09/23/2026

The fall equinox arrived with warm light, a chill in the air, and rain that makes every color feel a little deeper.

Changes are happening quietly underfoot. I’m out here documenting them as they unfold—following the light, noticing what the rain reveals, and gathering earth and other materials for future paintings.

A new season, and plenty to bring back to the studio. 🍂

Morning visitors.Coffee on a rainy day, a handful of sunflower seeds, a little patience—and suddenly the distance betwee...
09/17/2026

Morning visitors.

Coffee on a rainy day, a handful of sunflower seeds, a little patience—and suddenly the distance between wild and human disappears. Chickadees and nuthatches, fearless, curious and impossibly light, arriving one by one.

For a few quiet moments, I became part of their forest.

New workspace. New inventory.I’m not ready to share the workspace itself just yet. It is still becoming what it needs to...
09/07/2026

New workspace. New inventory.

I’m not ready to share the workspace itself just yet. It is still becoming what it needs to be. But already, it has given me something I have wanted for a long time: the room to unpack years of collected earth.

Clay that had been tucked away in boxes and Ziploc bags. Some carefully labeled, others with names fading into memory. Pieces gathered from travels, walks, roadsides, riverbanks, deserts, mountains, and places I wanted to carry home with me.

Now I’m beginning to make an inventory — not simply of pigment, but of place.

A library of the colors of the earth I love, the landscapes I have moved through, and the colors that have come to hold those experiences for me.

In a way, it feels less like organizing materials and more like mapping a life.

I did this.I grew up in Slovakia, a country with a beautiful and deeply rooted tradition of pastry making.My mom has bee...
09/03/2026

I did this.

I grew up in Slovakia, a country with a beautiful and deeply rooted tradition of pastry making.

My mom has been making pastries like these for as long as I can remember. I never exactly took them for granted—but somewhere along the way, in my effort to be healthy, avoid sugar, and eat all the “right” things, I stopped paying attention to what they really represented.

Over the years, I’ve come to see them differently.

This is her art.

It’s also part of my homeland, my childhood, and a tradition passed from one generation to the next. There is knowledge in her hands that doesn’t come from a cookbook. It comes from years of making, adjusting, remembering, and knowing when something is just right.

And I realized I don’t want that knowledge to end with her.

So… I did this.

My first Chicken of the Woods. 🍄I cannot stop looking at it—or photographing it.The color. The folds. The layers. Holdin...
08/08/2026

My first Chicken of the Woods. 🍄

I cannot stop looking at it—or photographing it.

The color. The folds. The layers. Holding it feels almost like holding a painter’s palette, all those oranges, creams, ochres and little flashes of gold already mixed by the woods.

And somehow this wild, sculptural thing growing in the forest is also food.

Beautiful food.

I’m still amazed that something this extraordinary can taste so good… and yes, remarkably like chicken.

Found in the Tennessee woods. First one. Definitely not the last.

In the Pillar of CloudAnother finished piece from my Komorebi show this past March.There’s something sacred about standi...
05/16/2026

In the Pillar of Cloud

Another finished piece from my Komorebi show this past March.

There’s something sacred about standing beneath trees — they create these quiet pillars of light and shadow that feel like cathedrals. This piece captures that calm hush, the golden light filtering through leaves, and the deep stillness they bring.

Trees remind us to root deeper and breathe slower. Their calmness isn’t just peaceful… it’s healing.


A Piece of Florida History Washed Ashore This massive deadhead cypress log was pulled from the Apalachicola River — one ...
05/13/2026

A Piece of Florida History Washed Ashore

This massive deadhead cypress log was pulled from the Apalachicola River — one of the many “sinker cypress” treasures hidden beneath Florida’s tannic waters for over a century.
Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s, loggers hand-felled giant old-growth cypress (some over 1,000 years old) using only axes and saws. They’d dry the logs for up to two years before rafting them down rivers like the Apalachicola to sawmills. But not all made it. An estimated 10-20% became waterlogged, sank into the riverbed, and were preserved in the cool, oxygen-poor mud — earning them the name “deadheads.”

Today, with a state permit and careful environmental practices, families and small operators in Northwest Florida continue this unique tradition: locating, floating, drying, and milling these historic logs into stunning, rot-resistant lumber. The tight growth rings, rich color, and incredible durability make it some of the most beautiful wood you’ll ever work with.

Although I’m not currently painting, I’m fully living a creative lifestyle — bringing these river treasures home and giving them new life as functional art right here in Apalachicola. Some traditions (and creative passions) are just too good to let sink away.

I haven’t had a chance to share all of my new work from the ‘Komorebi’ exhibit yet.This is Take a Breath — painted last ...
05/05/2026

I haven’t had a chance to share all of my new work from the ‘Komorebi’ exhibit yet.

This is Take a Breath — painted last winter during that quiet season of hibernation and laying low. A gentle reminder to pause, exhale, and let the light return.

Now, while road tripping and soaking in the open road, I’m reminded all over again to take a breath, trust the rhythm, and keep moving forward.

Trading my regular schedule for a full-on swamp detour, y’all! 🌿🐊🛶Diving headfirst into the Florida Panhandle’s Tupelo t...
05/01/2026

Trading my regular schedule for a full-on swamp detour, y’all! 🌿🐊🛶

Diving headfirst into the Florida Panhandle’s Tupelo tree paradise — dripping with golden honey bee vibes and just enough alligator sparkle to keep things spicy.

This ain’t a break… this is a full immersion in Southern wild magic.

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