Along the Way: A Show About Memory, Growth, and Transformation

"Coming Home III" Paper collage, cotton string, and oil paint on cradled panel. 24" x 48" (One of many works in the show. )

Making art and hiking a trail share something essential: both require attention to where you've been, where you are, and where you're going. They are also metaphors for living life in general. In Along the Way, a solo exhibition on display at CACE Gallery in Fort Morgan (Jan 15 - Feb 19, 2026) I explore how the vantage points we choose on a journey—whether literal or metaphorical—shape what we discover about ourselves and the world around us. By looking back at traversed ground, down at the details beneath my feet, and ahead toward the horizon, I've found that remaining curious and attentive at each stage produces surprising growth and wisdom. Every perspective offers something sacred to the traveler: memory, presence, and hope. All are needed, and none are wasted when we pay attention along the way. 

This show is comprised of three groups or art that represent three vantage points: 

Looking Back, Looking Down, and Looking Ahead.

In this article, I will share not only the overall thought process attached to selecting these concepts, but I will also take a closer look at one painting in each group as an example.

Looking Back:

The first series examines the perspective of looking back over one's shoulder, considering the ground already covered. I work from my own hiking photographs taken while pausing to look back at traversed terrain. In these moments, I consider the cost of the path so far, the distance traveled, and what's required to continue. Sometimes I look back with gratitude and awe at what's now visible from a different vantage point. The collage layers in these pieces whisper of personal reflections—as a mother, wife, and woman examining past experiences and what they've taught me during moments of pause along life's path.

"Bulwark" (36" x 36", collage background to the right) is an example of metaphorically looking back on my life's narrative.

Here's the story:

When my brother was four, he took our 1987 Ford Fairmont out of park and coasted down our hill, smashing the car into an unassuming and perfectly placed tree.  He crawled out, terrified, but without a scratch.  The car?  Totaled.   

As I remembered that incident 35 years later, I’m in awe of how God protected him through the help of a tree.  If the tree hadn’t stopped his momentum, he would have gained speed for another quarter mile of downhill fields, heading right into a creek.  As I was working on this piece, I asked my dad if he recalled what kind of tree stopped my brother.  He was pretty sure it was a sumac tree, but I could never find reference that matched the memory I had.  The leaves weren’t right, the size was never right, etc.  As I researched, I discovered a tree type that is often mistaken for a sumac tree.  It’s called “Tree of Heaven.”  

It gave me chills. 

Looking Down:

The second perspective explores what happens when I look down at my feet. Over the years, I've noticed my attention to details near my hiking boots growing and sparking new inspiration. The forest floor contains present lessons and beauty when attended to. These intimate landscapes—close studies of botanicals and natural details—are steeped in slowing down, kneeling close, and being present with my environment rather than rushing toward a destination. The collage elements celebrate fleeting moments: brief conversations, exchanged glances, and small connections that enrich the present.

"Well Spring" (12" x 12", collage background to the right) is a great example of what it has looked like to pause on my journey and take stock of my surroundings, my present feelings, and what is ruminating in my mind. Rather than a story, this piece is accompanied by a prayer that addresses an emotional and mental state of exhaustion.

Holy Spirit,

 I walk around with my heart dried out, fatigued and delusional.  I often don’t even know I’m thirsty. 

In my parched state, I search for satisfaction and renewal in all the wrong places only to make the state of my heart more desperate.  

Ah, but you see me.  As my faithful helper, without me even knowing what’s happening, you shepherd me to the waters I need.  You lovingly create a path to lead me where my heart can finally find what it so deeply needs.  You.

Looking Ahead:

The final series considers what it means to lift one's eyes toward the horizon. Reorienting focus to the destination is essential at certain points on any trek. When doubt, exhaustion, disorientation, or fear creep in, a hiker must remember where they're heading to summon the strength and courage still required. These forward-facing landscapes explore my future as a middle-aged woman moving into the latter half of my finite human journey. They hold the promises and hopes that give me strength for what lies ahead.

"Soar" (36" x 36", collage background to the right) is an example of looking ahead either literally or metaphorically.

Here's the story:

After a full Christmas break, our family flew back to Colorado from Pennsylvania. The clouds were low and gray, heavy like our hearts as we left family and headed home to a new semester, work, and decorations that needed to come down.

For some reason, I watched the whole takeoff. We climbed through thick cloud cover, rising and rising until we broke through the top. The sun was beaming, the clouds brilliantly white. I sat back, got my book out, and smiled. It was going to be ok.

Each piece has a story and a visual expression created in collage to that lies beneath the paint that can share something about the various perspectives that we can hold while on our journeys...wherever they will take us.

To view all the works in this show you, can download the show catalog here.