$400, 12x16, 2lbs, acrylic on canvas PURCHASE

Flowers fade but this memento of my 2024 Mother’s Day will stay bright and fresh as the day I came home from work to a smile on my son’s face and this bouquet.

$200, Upcycled Fabrics Soda fired Porcelain PURCHASE

Hola, We're Adriana Bulla and William McKinney, a recently wed couple fueled by love and creativity. As a married couple, we've found common ground in our passion for making art. Adriana loves to work with recycled fabrics, crafting stunning bags, while William works with clay, making beautiful sculptures and functional ceramics. Our collaboration is a celebration of our shared journey and our individual talents. This piece, the teabowl nestled within the bucket bag, symbolizes the importance of cherishing and safeguarding love, or anything that is important to you. This collaboration is a testament to our bond and a promise to continue growing together as makers and as partners. It's a memento of our love story, encapsulated in clay and fabric.

$450, 22”x28", acrylic on canvas PURCHASE

Growing up I watched a lot of movies. They were my escape from reality and typically of a happier flavor than the tumult of my early childhood. Looking back I can see the mark those left upon me and the conflicting messages I had to untangle later on. I didn’t question back then when I began to think that Jareth was trying to woo Sarah, that Phantom was better than Raol, and Captain Jack Sparrow offerred more than Will. The messages I was receiving in my home was skewing what I thought was a healthy and this led to a labyrinth of heartache that I had to untangle in my adult relationships. Now I see the Goblin King for what he is. A twisted memento of my childhood and an unsuitable partner. Sarah is pictured protecting her brother just as we should protect our children by choosing a good spouse.

NFS, 11" x 16", Photography Archival Inkjet Print

In this work, I photographed my rearview mirror that his photo hangs. With another message on how it hasn’t gotten better. Although a year and a half has gone by, I still find myself sitting in my car, with his favorite songs playing, I’ll sit and cry. My car became a personal and intimate part of where most of my mourning process happened over the past year. Now that I live almost 7 hours away from where he’s at rest, I feel that I can be in my car and take him on drives just like he did with me when he was alive just by having his photo in my car.

NFS, 20" x 24" x 1", oil on canvas

Monsters in horror have always been depicted as scary because of their appearance. Growing up, monsters have always comforted me since I sympathized with their struggle to fit into society. This painting is my memento, a visual diary that explores my journey with unmasking my autism. Masking is a term in the autism spectrum where an individual hides aspects of themselves to fit in. When it comes to emotions, I often mask them by putting on a facade in front of others to appear socially acceptable. Much like monsters, mental health disorders remain to be stigmatized and labeled as abnormal. The title, “The Shadow Within”, tells a particular period in life in which the only way I felt release was when I was at home and had time to decompress overwhelming emotions that I experienced.

$65, 11" x 14", acrylic PURCHASE

The inspiration for this painting comes from a cherished memory of a close friends 12th birthday celebration. It was held at a really nice restaurant. The ambiance of the restaurant was enchanted by a beautiful Koi pond. Which could be felt as we waited for our meals. A special surprise came when we were invited to feed the Koi. This experience stayed with me as a profound sense of calm in a very busy atmosphere.

NFS, 14" x 16", Mixed Media/Found Objects

This manual receipt register came from the counter top of the welding repair shop that my father owned for 25 years named “Coker Weldrite” Mr. Coker was the man who had taught my grandfather to weld in the 1940’s when welders were needed to work in the shipyards during the war effort and my father had worked for him periodically as a youth. I spent a great deal of my childhood in this shop helping my father, particularly summers and Saturday mornings. When my father passed away, Coker Weldrite had been in business for 65 years. After his death, I sold off the equipment and cleaned up the place. As I took one last look around, I saw this register sitting on the counter next to the phone. I picked it up and took it with me as I walked out the door to leave, never to return.

$250, 11"x14", acrylic PURCHASE

The mementos of my life can be summed up in the title. For generations, my families' foundation has been agriculture. My art, whether drawing, painting or sculpture reflects a life tied to the soil. A quote I recall "We take photos of that which we are afraid to lose". Memories are mementoes, recall of certain days, people, horses and cattle captured in the camara of the mind's eye. The grass before subdivisions, windmills before solar pumps and horned Hereford cow herds before the Angus. These are the mementos tied to grass, water and cattle.

$150, 8"x8", Mixed Media PURCHASE

Recently, on a trip to Lubbock, I was instantly transported to my childhood by coming across stick candy, the colorful sugar candy that one would find at Cracker Barrel or an old-time general store. I fondly remember visiting the Ranching and Heritage Center with my mother and sister. We would always stop by the gift shop first, purchase a few stick candies to enjoy while we walked around the facilities, and learn more about the style of homes built in Texas in the 1800s. This piece is entitled “Summer Time.” Once we purchased our preferred candies, we made our way outside to walk the mile-long loop around several historic homes. I remember one time when my sister and I were playing on a hill there. An employee came up to us to tell us the hill was a haven for rattlesnakes and kindly suggested we stick to the path.

$200, 20"X28" Mixed Media Collage of acrylic, watercolor, glue mache PURCHASE

LThe fried chicken was crispy, and the pies were rockin’ good. Lola Burton knew her way around that kitchen in Emhouse, Texas. Cast iron skillets, Farberware pots, and a black enamel roasting pan turned out mouth-watering meals seasoned with salt, pepper, and lots of love. This is the kitchen where I learned to fry chicken and make pie crust. A table by the window looked out to the backyard and a water well, a remnant of the days before city water and indoor plumbing. Morning coffee with biscuits was special, as Lola fried bacon nearby. At noon, a sandwich with a plate of sliced tomatoes, purple onions, and cucumbers was enjoyed as we talked about her life in the house where she grew up and later raised a family. The salt and pepper shakers spoke of seasoning simple food from a humble cook.

$110, 8”x5”x9.5”, cardboard, food wrappers, and wire PURCHASE

I started doing long distance bike rides after getting type 1 diabetes. Bike riding felt like freedom, flying, and fun after a lousy diagnosis. My bike rides are fueled by fruit strips and mini granola bars. The fruit strips treat low blood sugar, and granola bars treat low energy. They also keep the fear of low blood sugar at bay. I always have number goals for bike rides, both for distance and blood sugar. I always ride towards the numbers, even if I miss sometimes. I had the vision of a strawberry with legs riding a trike during a low blood sugar that I had while on a bike ride. I sometimes get strange images while my blood sugar is low, and often have a good chuckle about them later. I don’t celebrate the lows or the fear, but I do celebrate being able to manage my diabetes and bike rides.

$2500, 24" x 30", Acrylic Painting on canvas PURCHASE

King George! The sweetest doberman anyone has ever met! He was the best dog with the most personality. He was my first dog. He was also a dog that everyone adored. You ask anyone in my neighborhood and they will tell you a specific memory or a specific moment that they had with him- all positive, all happy. He was beloved and he will always be missed.

$2,222, 28"x12"x0.75", Mixed Media PURCHASE

In my teen years to mid-twenties, I developed a tendency to self-harm in the form of cutting when I couldn't handle my emotions. This piece, ‘Mending Cicatrice’, is a map of the physical momentos that I carry in the form of scars on my skin and experiences within my spirit, psychiatric medications I was on, and tools I used; formed on the quilt that hung on my wall when I was a child. ‘Mending Cicatrice’ also serves as a memento for all that I have overcome in no longer being a product of the environment I was raised in, and everything I did in my life as a reaction to that.

$150, 16"x18"x12", honeycomb and mixed media PUR CHASE

Growing up in the country, I grew up without computers or cable, even air conditioning living in the south. Most of my time was spent outside. The best times were on my grandparents' farm. My grandfather kept bees. He would talk about the math an insect could compute without ever taken a class. I thought it mind boggling how much I wanted to be better, to be smarter, to fit in. In nature it doesn't matter and yet it flowed effortlessly. It has always baffled me how we can find something as beautiful as a honeycomb frightening, when nature is mastering perfection, and we are still learning the ropes. There's skilled math and art done by a being that only lives 23 days. When I work with bees, I remember those days and there's a peace knowing no matter how much my world is chaos, this other world exists.

NFS 10"X12", Stained Glass Mosaic

The three years before I turned 39 were the worst years of my life. I was fighting addiction and losing miserably. I had a preteen daughter that I was dragging through my bullshit, and was in a wretched relationship. I also was bipolar, and I learned the hard way that psych drugs and street drugs do not mix well. I was suicidal and in and out of a facility 5 times in the last year. I thought I could never recover, and that life was just going to suck me under. Out of concern for my little girl, I was able to get on the wagon once again, and began to live life pulling my daughter out of the muck with me. I married a loving husband and father and created this self-portrait called Triumphant. It represents hope, joy, recovery, and resilience.

$50, 8" x 10", Photograph PURCHASE

I was taking a ceramics class during what would become a difficult time of my life. With a grandpa in the hospital and the creeping feelings of an existential crisis, the ceramics studio felt like a sort of refuge where I could focus on making and decorating bowls. A part of it is me living in the past, from when I was taking ceramics as a university class, but part of it is also wanting to tie that experience in with my life now. One of the unique firings we had at the time was to create raku ware. It was nice to be around my peers and the instructor while the instructor grabbed our glowing hot ceramics and put them in a metal trash can filled with sawdust. I did not feel as isolated as my classmates and I witnessed this process, marveling at the beautiful, shiny, not-food-safe results.

$250, 10"x20", Acrylic on canvas PURCHASE

What from my past inspires me? What moves me? What’s my memento? A small light from my dog’s collar. I could always find him in the darkness, the forest, the deep canyons, the rugged mountains. It kept him safe from everything, everything except cancer. I keep the light to remind me of him, to remind me of memento nori. We are all mortal, and we all must die. Riddick never stopped, never quit. He always took one more step…until he could step no more. I have painted many scenes from our adventures, but I never put him in there. He’s in the photo, but not in the painting. He’s in my heart, but no longer with me. The painting is missing him, just as I do. How do I go forward without him? “Just one more step” he whispers. Memento nori Riddick. I’ll see you soon, but not just yet.

$750, 24-1/4" x 5", Air Dry Clay & Copper Wire PURCHASE

"Memento" is not just an artwork; it is a visual representation of my personal evolution and my commitment to embracing the freedom to create. Each element, from the air-dry clay to the copper branches and clay flowers, weaves together a narrative of resilience, growth, and self-acceptance. This piece stands as a testament to the power of authentic self-expression and the beauty of creating without the constraints of external approval. Through this journey, I have discovered that true artistic fulfillment lies in the courage to be oneself and to create unapologetically. This medium, often seen as unconventional or less prestigious, mirrors my struggle with societal expectations and the art world's pressure to conform to established norms. Choosing air-dry clay is a deliberate act of defiance, a statement that my worth as an artist is not determined by the medium I choose, but by the authenticity of my expression.

$700, 22"x 18", oil on canvas framed PURCHASE

The death of two family members, the start of the COVID pandemic, and struggling with agoraphobia pushed me to create “Ostensible” after a 3 year hiatus. Facing adversity throughout childhood made it difficult to build an identity, but creating art was my chance to do so. This painting played a part in discovering for myself what it meant to be an individual. Each item holds its own value to my life, but collectively tells a bigger story of introspection. My hope was to create an image of all that changed me, and how random or insignificant it can be to the outside perspective. I believe our randomness is what makes an individual and welcome you to ponder the little things that make you who you are.

11"x14", watercolor on paper SOLD

Throughout life, I've often found myself perceived as an object. I've been taken into the unkind hands of thoughtless sculptors who tried to mold me to fit their impulses and desires. Because of this, touch has often felt confining. As if I were at the mercy of a Shibari master, who, through manipulation and coercion, bound me to them in a tangle of hopelessness. But as I grow and develop healthier relationships, I now realize the transformative power inherent in touch. Changing perspective and seeing the beauty of binding, touch has evolved for me. Becoming a source of strength and profound understanding. Through art, I am reminded of this transformative journey. What once seemed restrictive has blossomed into something beautifully liberating.

$200, 12"x15" (framed), Photography PURCHASE

My First time in Europe included an intriguing Jack the Ripper tour around London. As we wandered through historic alleyways and heard sinister stories, the city's dark past came alive. A particularly Memorable moment was capturing a photograph of the Tower of London, a significant landmark with its own haunting history. This photo serves as a "Memento" of the tour, embodying the chilling theory that a royal might have committed the infamous crimes. The experience was both eerie and enlightening, offering a compelling glimpse into London's mysterious past, forever immortalized through my Tower of London snapshot.

8"x16" acrylic paint on wood canvas SOLD

Watching as the silver threads poured down from the sky, it felt as if the heavens were crying with me. I just buried my son that day. A child born to help so many. But, the loss was horrific. A child that loved roses, and we even planted a rose bush together the year before. One last rose bloomed, and it was for him. A rose blooming in early November, on the day I gave my son back to the Creator. It was a sign to me that he was safe now. The pain was gone. The host of Heaven was there to welcome him, and felt my pain as I said the last goodbye. The pain has eased over the years. And sometimes during a early November storm, I think about that day. I now just watch as the rain falls in those silver threads, and I can smile.

NFS 20"x24", paper on panel

Sydney and I bonded over a road trip, fueled by our shared love of Glee. We were finishing each other's sentences by the end of the ride, instantly inseparable. Our friendship felt eternal. But life had a different plan. Sydney's fight with cancer ended her journey too soon. This portrait captures her spirit. While everyone dined inside, Sydney ventured out to map our course. That was Sydney: fiercely caring, a natural leader, wise beyond her years, and the best friend anyone could ask for.

$65, 8"x6.25"x1.75", Assemblage PURCHASE

Most of my assemblages are homages to places I’ve been and loved. This particular piece entitled ‘West Texas Dresser’ is inspired by my first visit to Marathon, Texas. My husband and I made our way out there six years ago, and we couldn’t believe we’d never been before. Marathon got its name from Captain Albion Shepard in 1882 because the terrain reminded him of Greece (another favorite place of mine). I love an old Irish Dresser, so upon seeing this at our B&B I had to take a photo. It serves as the backdrop in a painted turquoise blue cigar box. I found the wood scrap on a walk there, and the plant is a treasured holiday ornament. The piece of blue tile is a treasure from Greece, and the thrifted ceramic coyote completes the West Texas vignette. What a magical place it is!

$200, 12"x16", Acrylic on canvas PURCHASE

Thanatophobia, the extreme fear of death to the point that it affects everyday life. This piece serves as a memento to focus on life, not the fear of life ending. I find myself needing to remember that if I spend my entire life worrying about dying, I won't live my life I will just survive it. This means taking time to pause and appreciate moments as they happen, appreciate the air we breathe, the light we see, the shapes of the clouds on a windy gray day, the smell of rain in the air, and the birds singing on rooftops, all the way down to the grass under our feet, and the ground that brings the sweet serene green we call life. Life is sacred, not scary.

$150, 16"x10", Acrylic paint PURCHASE

A memento is being able have a physical representation of a moment/moments in time that we’d never want to forget. A memento for me is my musical instruments. They are a physical representation that remind me of how my love for music came about. Growing up listening to my grandma sing in the kitchen, watching VHS tapes of my grandpa playing guitar, and attending family cookouts that let the neighbors know the blues is alright are moment I’d never forget. When I pick up an instrument or hear a tune from the past those memories come rushing back instantly. Music doesn’t just connect my past to the my present, it’s what inspires the art I create and maybe one day that same art will be someone else’s memento.

NFS, 12"x10"x17", mix media

Drill Sergeant Larize, with his imposing figure and impeccable uniform, stood as a symbol of discipline and authority at Lackland Air Force Base. His boots struck the pavement with precision, echoing his thunderous orders to the recruits. Push-ups, sit-ups, and endless marching became our daily routine. We were no longer at summer camp; we were in the United States Air Force, where warriors were forged. But beyond the stern facade, glimpses of humanity emerged. During mail call, He would share stories—about being a single father, about his daughter. Sometimes, a package arrived, filled with sweet treats. He’d discreetly allow us to savor these forbidden delights, provided we disposed of the evidence. In those moments, he shed the drill instructor persona and stepped into the role of a caring individual. I later realized he was decompressing before he went home to his daughter. Sergeant Larize was more than a drill sergeant; he was a beacon of strength and humanity.

$1350, 23"x36", mixed media assemblage PURCHASE

Diptychs are grand story tellers connecting two art pieces by a common theme. The message in this diptych contains sage advice from my dad. Measure twice, cut once. Taken literally, it is important to measure twice for accuracy before the cut is made. Figuratively, this advice causes me to take a step back before making a final decision that cannot be changed. I do not remember what my dad was building that day when he said, “Nat, always measure twice and cut once.” Fragments of memories are internal mementos stored in my mind. Found mementos are concrete pieces, gathered collectively, forming this piece titled, Measure Twice, Cut Once. My dad taught me many lessons in life. He was an artist, a life long learner and a lover of adventure. I celebrate his life with a dime on every art piece I create. Thank you Dad.

NFS 20"x20" Assemblage

It can be the simple things that help us through difficult times. In the early 70’s my military husband was sent to Thailand. I, as a young mother of a newborn and a 3-year old, stayed in the states. Though a joyful time with my small children, it was also a time of deep loneliness. My husband soon began sending me seashells from the Thailand beaches. Never having ventured far from north Texas at that time, I was fascinated by the diversity and colors of these ocean beauties. I would spend some of my free time polishing and perusing library books to identify them. This simple hobby helped me feel connected and eased the loneliness of an 18 month separation. I have kept most of the seashells through these many years and am happy to now have made this piece for others to enjoy.

$150, 11"x14", wooden mixed media PURCHASE

Before our family moved to Wichita Falls, I spent my childhood and young adulthood in Tulsa Oklahoma. This area is called green country, and it lived up to its name. When summer holidays came around, we’d go to Grand Lake O’ The Cherokees which was a short drive from Tulsa. It’s a beautiful lake that flows across four counties. We excitedly waited for school to end and summer vacation to start. While the 46,500 acre lake boasts great fishing and family recreational activities, the dragonflies were the most memorable things I remember. There were lots of them flitting around the grassy fields. In addition to swimming and boating, we would sit on the shoreline and watch them for hours at a time. They are such fascinating creatures. Dragonflies are a big influence on my art. This creation brings those memories to light for us.

14" x 18", Woodcut print SOLD

"12:35 PM at The Burrito Shop" is a glimpse into a weekly Saturday afternoon routine. The Burrito Shop is our family business. My Grandma brought it to life and then passed it on to my Momma. We have all worked at the shop at one point in our lives and have contributed to the success and love it has in our community. As we grow older, we bring in partners and in-laws to work and eat. The image you see is our outsiders, our boys we have brought into our life, my Momma’s sons she never had. This piece is to represent those Saturdays at 12:35pm where we go to eat after closing, watch soccer games, joke around, and talk about plans for the day. Like our business, our family is expanding, adding new customers, and love for my family and The Burrito Shop.

$300, 19.5x23.5 (with frame), Print with Frame PURCHASE

Only another artist can understand the bittersweetness of letting your work go. I feel this especially with commissioned portraits; they must leave my hands while there is still paint on them, it seems. This one, though... hours upon hours I studied my subjects' intricate details; the girl and her dog. They challenged me professionally, but I soon saw their personalities bloom. I began to envision their stories in my mind's eye; an adventurous child with her gentle protector, distant, but ready to catch her. I was reminded of my own struggle as a mother, trying desperately to protect my adolescent children as they venture out, while giving them room to be independent. The time came, the work was complete, but I wanted a memento of all the lessons they taught me-- a print. Perhaps artists are not the only ones who understand the bittersweetness of letting go; all guardians do.

$650, 16"x20", Acrylic on panel PURCHASE

I wasn’t interested in anything “girly” as a kid. In fact, I was the family tomboy because of my love of rollerblading and skateboarding. I was often the odd one out with the other girls in school as I seemed to be the only one who enjoyed these things. In order to fit in at school, I slowly gave up skating altogether. I used my passion for painting to echo my old childhood drawings full of scribbles, as well as my lifelong love for color. This artwork has reminded me to not give up on the things that bring you genuine joy. Working on this piece healed a part of my inner child that I didn’t know needed to be healed, and it has motivated me to start skating again.

$150, 18"x24", Ink pen PURCHASE

Most able people don’t typically recognize the slight changes in architecture done to accommodate those with special needs. They don’t realize the ramp they walked makes it easier for a walker, the railed they used on the stairs stabilizes a cane user, the automatic button for doors holds it open for someone on crutches, or the elevator they wait on can take a someone in a wheelchair to the top floor. Unfortunately, places will be equipped with the bare minimum per ADA laws so now those people have to wait for their pathways to be cleared or have to go out of their way to find the right entrance that has the adaptations they need. This piece contains various types of mobility aids and common architecture to assist those users.

$85, 8X18, Mixed Media PURCHASE

This boogle house was created in memory of a longtime friend and fiber artist, Peggy Sexton. We met at a Texas Federation Conference and became instant friends. She was not only a dear friend, but an incredibly talented and innovative artist. She was a constant source of inspiration through the years. She shared her knowledge and materials freely. Each year we would collaborate on one project, passing it back and forth; each adding our own layer of design until one of us decided it was finished. This is the first boogle house (based on a children’s book) I have worked on since her death. I think she would be pleased with it. It contains pieces of her fabric.

$150, 8"x10"x2.5", Eggshell, Gold flake, & resin PURCHASE

The first step to acceptance is alway denial. Denial that the off the wall comments and small forgetful spells were just a result of my mother’s age. Suddenly she forgot my father’s face, even believing him to be an intruder. I managed to keep my hopes up, as she always seemed to remember me. Almost always. Sometimes. Almost never. Watching my mother suffer through Alzheimer's has been difficult, as well as not really understanding how to communicate with her. I find myself angry at those that offer prayers, as if God will finally answer their prayer over all others for a cure. I bargain with friends not to ask about her, knowing that her condition can only worsen. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I know I love you Mom.

NFS, 4.75"X6", acrylic yarn, human hair, paper

In 2005, I was diagnosed with a rare genetic syndrome with the potential for many complications. The doctor suggested I research my family history to narrow down the list of pathologies to test for. I discovered that my rare syndrome affects both my matriarchal and patriarchal lineage. My mother, father, and both grandmothers had symptoms, and everyone of them had one diagnosis in common: Congestive Heart Failure. The matriarchs of my family are all gone, from heart issues, and my father is struggling to manage the condition. I am being tested for vascular issues as well. This piece represents our inheritance: the shared experience of a failing organ. The image of the heart, partially drawn in paper, is sewn in to hand-felted acrylic yarn using my hair as the thread. Each strand of my hair contains traits of each parent and it symbolizes our connection across time.

$1,000, 24"x 36", Mixed Media PURCHASE

Fall 2023 marked my second semester returning to college 16 years after dropping out. Following a successful first semester I took on a hefty schedule, optimistically assuming I could manage the balance of work and school with responsible time management. Everything was going well until Covid finally got me, and it got me good. It was a rough recovery both physically and academically; I was bedridden for about a week and a half, and my energy reserves and mental clarity had all but disappeared. I fell behind and spiraled out of control until I completely shut down. Thankfully, I was under the dutiful watch of Saoirse, my cat/nurse/therapist/studio assistant/jester. Throughout the illness and recovery, Saoirse never left my side. A bed of chaotic, shredded trigonometry notes has been bashed and stitched back together with metallic gold embroidery floss, forming the base of this memento of Saoirse’s companionship through traumatic times.