Art as Sanctuary: Why I Work One-on-One with Private Clients & Collectors

There is something sacred about a closed door, a quiet room, and a canvas waiting.

These days, I don’t teach in large classrooms or paint on demand for gallery floors. I’ve chosen a more intimate path. I work exclusively with private clients—whether it’s a retired executive finally listening to the long-held whisper of their inner artist, or a collector searching for a piece that stirs soul-memory.

I do this because transformation requires safety. And art, when held in the right space, becomes sanctuary.

Years ago, I founded Santa Fe Art Classes, a joyful, vibrant space where thousands of beginners picked up a brush for the first time. I’m proud of what we created. But eventually, my heart whispered something different—something deeper.

I closed that chapter because I wanted to offer richer, more personal experiences. I wanted to walk beside each person more intimately. To hold space not just for creativity, but for transformation, healing, and soul remembrance.

Now, I work with women in therapy groups, survivors, seekers, and those mid-reinvention. I offer quiet refuge—a place to paint through grief, to celebrate joy, or to simply be. My studio becomes a mirror, a portal, a promise.

At the same time, I work with high-end collectors, patrons who see art not just as beauty but as legacy. Together, we co-create bespoke works that whisper into generations. These pieces aren’t commodities. They are prayers in paint.

So why only one-on-one? Because your story deserves time. Your journey deserves devotion. And your art—whether you're making it, or collecting it—deserves to be personal.

This is not about exclusivity for the sake of status.
This is about depth. Authenticity. Reverence.
This is about inviting your soul to the table—and letting it feast.

If you're reading this and feel the nudge—come closer.

I invite you to paint with me.
To become a collector.
To retreat into beauty.
To co-create in my private studio in Santa Fe.

You don’t have to be “an artist.”
You just have to be ready to remember the one you already are.

With love and paint-stained hands,
Robbi