The Artist is the Offering

Not every offering is paint on canvas.

Sometimes, the offering is the life you’ve lived.

The city rhythms that beat through your bones. The way sunsets follow you across time zones. The way you hold two completely different worlds in your heart—and call both home.

I still live in New York City. And I still live in Santa Fe.
And I love them both madly.

NYC is my heartbeat. A rush of brilliance, raw beauty, and art-soaked concrete. I thrive in its chaos. I fall in love every morning—with the woman wearing lavender tulle on the subway, with the trumpet player outside the MoMA, with the impossible sky between skyscrapers. It feeds my wild hunger.

But Santa Fe… ah. She is breath. She is open arms and infinite sky. In Santa Fe, the clouds paint stories that no artist could rival. Here, I exhale. Here, my paintings have space to stretch, to speak, to become.

Recently, I transported my large-scale SkyDance paintings—epic 4x6-foot portals of light—from my NYC studio to Santa Fe. They needed to breathe. To expand. To be seen under this wide desert sky that sings in color.

I didn’t leave New York. I never could.
But my work, like my spirit, flows between these two sacred lands.

And I am so grateful. Every single day.

I get to live this breathtaking contrast—
The joie de vivre of Manhattan, the soul-deep stillness of Santa Fe.
It’s the perfect duality. The perfect palette.

This Sunday, I'm inviting a few dear friends, co-conspirators, and collaborators into my Santa Fe studio for a spontaneous gathering—art, joy, soul talk, and sunset.

If you're reading this and your heart is tugged—email me. If you didn’t get the invite but feel the call—you’re invited.

Because truly—
The artist is the offering. And right now, I offer you my life. My cities. My sky. My studio.

With all my color and devotion,
Robbi