top of page
New Piece Available
"Oh How the Sunlight Dances"
This series began with a feeling.
Spring light, fresh air, sun on your face.
Sunlight that hums with summer heat, thick with humidity and the song of crickets.
Fields turning gold in fall, grass rustling in the breeze, amplified by sunrise and sunset.
Crisp winter mornings blanketed with snow that make you crave cocoa.
I wanted this series to explore moments when light becomes a feeling and a memory.
IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS
For purchases and inquiries, please reach out via our Contact Form.
"Big" Cat
SOLD | Kai Lin Art
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
There’s something timeless and bewildering about the majesty of a tiger—its power, grace, and confidence. I’ve always been drawn to the wild beauty of animals that live far beyond our reach. While we may catch glimpses of them in zoos, my heart returns again and again to the idea of them moving freely through lush forests and jungles, where every step is instinct, and every gaze is untamed.
This piece is a tiny tribute to that vast, untouchable world—to the thrill of imagining what it must be like to see such a creature in its natural element. Painting it in miniature felt like holding a little piece of that wonder in my hand.
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
There’s something timeless and bewildering about the majesty of a tiger—its power, grace, and confidence. I’ve always been drawn to the wild beauty of animals that live far beyond our reach. While we may catch glimpses of them in zoos, my heart returns again and again to the idea of them moving freely through lush forests and jungles, where every step is instinct, and every gaze is untamed.
This piece is a tiny tribute to that vast, untouchable world—to the thrill of imagining what it must be like to see such a creature in its natural element. Painting it in miniature felt like holding a little piece of that wonder in my hand.
"Gentle Observer"
On Sale at Kai Lin Art
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
I imagined this piece as a tiny portal into the canopy, where a curious orangutan sits quietly among the treetops, watching us as we watch him. His gaze is gentle, but knowing—full of the kind of empathy and curiosity that makes these creatures so endlessly captivating.
What I wanted to capture wasn’t just a portrait, but a moment—one of those rare, soul-stirring interactions we sometimes share with the wild world. The kind that reminds us we’re not alone on this planet, and that wonder often comes with quiet eyes and outstretched hands.
This is a celebration of those extraordinary encounters: brief, beautiful, and unforgettable.
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
I imagined this piece as a tiny portal into the canopy, where a curious orangutan sits quietly among the treetops, watching us as we watch him. His gaze is gentle, but knowing—full of the kind of empathy and curiosity that makes these creatures so endlessly captivating.
What I wanted to capture wasn’t just a portrait, but a moment—one of those rare, soul-stirring interactions we sometimes share with the wild world. The kind that reminds us we’re not alone on this planet, and that wonder often comes with quiet eyes and outstretched hands.
This is a celebration of those extraordinary encounters: brief, beautiful, and unforgettable.
"Froot Loops"
SOLD | Kai Lin Art
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
This piece gets its name from the cereal that made many of us first associate toucans with breakfast—and with joy. There's something delightfully nostalgic about that memory, and I leaned into it while painting this curious bird nestled in lush jungle foliage.
Toucans are such visually striking creatures, with their oversized beaks and brilliant colors. But more than that, they evoke a feeling—of looking up, spotting something unexpected and beautiful, and turning to share it with someone beside you. That shared spark of wonder, whether you're deep in the rainforest or just watching a cardinal land outside your kitchen window, is what this piece is about.
It’s a celebration of those little moments that stop us in our tracks and invite us to marvel—together.
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
This piece gets its name from the cereal that made many of us first associate toucans with breakfast—and with joy. There's something delightfully nostalgic about that memory, and I leaned into it while painting this curious bird nestled in lush jungle foliage.
Toucans are such visually striking creatures, with their oversized beaks and brilliant colors. But more than that, they evoke a feeling—of looking up, spotting something unexpected and beautiful, and turning to share it with someone beside you. That shared spark of wonder, whether you're deep in the rainforest or just watching a cardinal land outside your kitchen window, is what this piece is about.
It’s a celebration of those little moments that stop us in our tracks and invite us to marvel—together.
"Mama's Cheesecake"
Watercolor on paper, 22mm x 20mm
My mom makes the best cheesecake in the world. Yes, the world. I will not be taking questions at this time.
This tiny slice holds more than just a graham cracker crust and cream—it holds birthdays, holidays, potlucks, and peaceful afternoons. It’s the taste of being home, of knowing something was made with love (and probably requested weeks in advance). There’s a kind of magic in those family recipes—the way they carry memory and comfort with every bite.
This piece is a tribute to that kind of sweetness. The kind you can’t buy in a bakery. The kind that only someone who loves you would make.
My mom makes the best cheesecake in the world. Yes, the world. I will not be taking questions at this time.
This tiny slice holds more than just a graham cracker crust and cream—it holds birthdays, holidays, potlucks, and peaceful afternoons. It’s the taste of being home, of knowing something was made with love (and probably requested weeks in advance). There’s a kind of magic in those family recipes—the way they carry memory and comfort with every bite.
This piece is a tribute to that kind of sweetness. The kind you can’t buy in a bakery. The kind that only someone who loves you would make.
"Banana Split"
Watercolor on paper, 21mm x 21mm
Fun desserts are just the best, and banana splits? They’re the pinnacle. Something about them feels straight out of a retro diner dream—they have that striking pop of color, they're over-the-top, and are just the right kind of indulgent. This tiny piece captures all that yumminess: three little cherries perched like jewels, drizzles of chocolate and caramel sauce, that perfect pairing of banana and vanilla ice cream, and crumbled nuts catching the light.
Banana splits are a once-in-a-blue-moon treat, but every time they feel like an event.
This piece was awarded Honorable Mention in The Quinlan's 77th Member Exhibition in 2024 and won first place the GAL Members Show in 2025.
Fun desserts are just the best, and banana splits? They’re the pinnacle. Something about them feels straight out of a retro diner dream—they have that striking pop of color, they're over-the-top, and are just the right kind of indulgent. This tiny piece captures all that yumminess: three little cherries perched like jewels, drizzles of chocolate and caramel sauce, that perfect pairing of banana and vanilla ice cream, and crumbled nuts catching the light.
Banana splits are a once-in-a-blue-moon treat, but every time they feel like an event.
This piece was awarded Honorable Mention in The Quinlan's 77th Member Exhibition in 2024 and won first place the GAL Members Show in 2025.
"Freshly Baked"
Watercolor on paper, 18mm x 21mm
There’s a kind of magic in a cookie still warm from the oven—crisped at the edges, soft at the center, sweet enough to stop time. The bite taken from the top speaks to our impatience, the way we hover near the oven, waiting for the moment we can finally dig in. Still gooey, warm, melt-in-your-mouth good…the kind of treat that disappears far too fast.
Making cookies is often more than just baking—it’s a shared ritual. Maybe you’re perched on a stool beside your mom or a child at your elbow, both sneaking tastes of the raw dough. Maybe you're scraping the mixer bowl for the last sticky bit. It’s messy, full of laughter, and as comforting as the scent that fills the house. And while cookies come in every imaginable variety, my heart will always belong to the humble chocolate chip—especially with a little peanut butter stirred in. No frills. Just simple deliciousness.
There’s a kind of magic in a cookie still warm from the oven—crisped at the edges, soft at the center, sweet enough to stop time. The bite taken from the top speaks to our impatience, the way we hover near the oven, waiting for the moment we can finally dig in. Still gooey, warm, melt-in-your-mouth good…the kind of treat that disappears far too fast.
Making cookies is often more than just baking—it’s a shared ritual. Maybe you’re perched on a stool beside your mom or a child at your elbow, both sneaking tastes of the raw dough. Maybe you're scraping the mixer bowl for the last sticky bit. It’s messy, full of laughter, and as comforting as the scent that fills the house. And while cookies come in every imaginable variety, my heart will always belong to the humble chocolate chip—especially with a little peanut butter stirred in. No frills. Just simple deliciousness.
"Basket of Possibilities"
Watercolor on Paper, 17mm x 19mm
Tucked within a frame smaller than a nickel, this painting captures a universe of making. A basket brims with skeins of yarn—twists of color and texture coiled with potential. One ball has rolled free, as if drawn toward action, pierced by a single crochet hook mid-thought.
This piece is a commemoration of the moment before invention, when materials hover on the edge of becoming. The yarn isn’t just yarn; it’s the seed of blankets, scarves, tiny gifts made by hand and heart. It’s an echo of my own love for crafting—for the rhythm of the hook, the thrill of watching something grow from a single loop.
Though modest in size, A Basket of Possibilities speaks to something expansive: the alchemy of imagination, the joy of tactile creation, and the repetition and persistence of hands that make.
Tucked within a frame smaller than a nickel, this painting captures a universe of making. A basket brims with skeins of yarn—twists of color and texture coiled with potential. One ball has rolled free, as if drawn toward action, pierced by a single crochet hook mid-thought.
This piece is a commemoration of the moment before invention, when materials hover on the edge of becoming. The yarn isn’t just yarn; it’s the seed of blankets, scarves, tiny gifts made by hand and heart. It’s an echo of my own love for crafting—for the rhythm of the hook, the thrill of watching something grow from a single loop.
Though modest in size, A Basket of Possibilities speaks to something expansive: the alchemy of imagination, the joy of tactile creation, and the repetition and persistence of hands that make.
"Make Believe"
Watercolor on paper, 19mm x 21mm
A tribute to childhood afternoons spent weaving entire worlds out of imagination. Make Believe is inspired by the magic of creating whole universes with my little brother, using nothing but our beloved Beanie Babies. A simple toy could become a diplomat, a hero, a lifelong friend. This particular one, with its vivid hues and wide-eyed expression, was always among our favorites.
Painting it now, in miniature, feels like pressing a leaf between the pages of memory—preserving something delicate, bright, and full of life. This piece is a celebration of the way play shaped our bond, fueled our creativity, and filled our days with wonder. Even at this tiny scale, it holds something vast—like the endless stories we once dreamed into being. It almost seems like it could get up and walk away, just as we always imagined they might when we weren’t looking.
A tribute to childhood afternoons spent weaving entire worlds out of imagination. Make Believe is inspired by the magic of creating whole universes with my little brother, using nothing but our beloved Beanie Babies. A simple toy could become a diplomat, a hero, a lifelong friend. This particular one, with its vivid hues and wide-eyed expression, was always among our favorites.
Painting it now, in miniature, feels like pressing a leaf between the pages of memory—preserving something delicate, bright, and full of life. This piece is a celebration of the way play shaped our bond, fueled our creativity, and filled our days with wonder. Even at this tiny scale, it holds something vast—like the endless stories we once dreamed into being. It almost seems like it could get up and walk away, just as we always imagined they might when we weren’t looking.
"Let's Roll"
SOLD | Kai Lin Art
Watercolor on paper, 23mm x 19mm
A pair of blue skates with orange wheels waits at the edge of memory, poised for motion. Let's Roll is a tribute to the freedom of childhood—the wind-in-your-hair thrill of movement, the endless loops up and down sunlit sidewalks or in the neon-slick glow of the roller rink.
This painting hums with the music of those spaces—basslines bouncing off the walls, laughter echoing behind you, the rhythmic whir of wheels carving figure-eights into polished floors. Skaters glide, stumble, spin. Young feet learning balance beside older hands remembering it.
There’s nothing still about this image—it pulses with anticipation, with the charge of nostalgia that asks: Remember? And then answers, Let’s go again.
In honoring those joyful hours, Let's Roll doesn’t just look back—it invites forward motion. Wherever you are now, there’s always room to move, to play, to feel the music and roll.
Watercolor on paper, 23mm x 19mm
A pair of blue skates with orange wheels waits at the edge of memory, poised for motion. Let's Roll is a tribute to the freedom of childhood—the wind-in-your-hair thrill of movement, the endless loops up and down sunlit sidewalks or in the neon-slick glow of the roller rink.
This painting hums with the music of those spaces—basslines bouncing off the walls, laughter echoing behind you, the rhythmic whir of wheels carving figure-eights into polished floors. Skaters glide, stumble, spin. Young feet learning balance beside older hands remembering it.
There’s nothing still about this image—it pulses with anticipation, with the charge of nostalgia that asks: Remember? And then answers, Let’s go again.
In honoring those joyful hours, Let's Roll doesn’t just look back—it invites forward motion. Wherever you are now, there’s always room to move, to play, to feel the music and roll.
Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss"
SOLD | The Quinlan
Watercolor on paper, 18mm x 15mm
Watercolor on paper, 18mm x 15mm
"I can hear the birds singing"
This collection aims to capture a moment of serenity - when the sunlight filters just right, the breeze is soft and cool, and the world around you hums with tranquility.
Each miniature within tells a story: a woman lost in thought over a pond and lush garden, a music box waiting for its tune to play, stories ready to be reopened, and a chateau bathed in afternoon light.
Together, they echo those days when time slows and you can hear the birds singing.
This piece received an 'Honorary Mention' at the Quinlan's 78th Annual Members' Exhibition in 2025.
Each miniature within tells a story: a woman lost in thought over a pond and lush garden, a music box waiting for its tune to play, stories ready to be reopened, and a chateau bathed in afternoon light.
Together, they echo those days when time slows and you can hear the birds singing.
This piece received an 'Honorary Mention' at the Quinlan's 78th Annual Members' Exhibition in 2025.
"Frederic-Pierre Tschaggeny's Young Woman with Parrot 1872"
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
"The Classic"
Watercolor on paper, 12mm x 20mm
Golden bun, crisp lettuce, a flash of onion, a swipe of ketchup—The Classic doesn’t pretend to be anything it’s not. It stands proudly in its simplicity, stacked with flavor, memory, and a kind of ritual comfort.
This painting is one-third of a trio, paired with fries and beer—the holy trinity of indulgence in my opinion. Whether pulled from a paper bag in the front seat of a car or plated with gourmet flair beside a cold pint, this burger holds its place as the centerpiece of a timeless craving.
There are days for salads and restraint. And then there are days for this. For the unmistakable hit of salt, fat, and yumminess—for the first warm bite into something familiar.
The Classic is more than a meal—it’s a moment. A taste of childhood, of road trips and late-night stops. A small tribute to the fact that sometimes, the thing you want most… really is just a burger.
Golden bun, crisp lettuce, a flash of onion, a swipe of ketchup—The Classic doesn’t pretend to be anything it’s not. It stands proudly in its simplicity, stacked with flavor, memory, and a kind of ritual comfort.
This painting is one-third of a trio, paired with fries and beer—the holy trinity of indulgence in my opinion. Whether pulled from a paper bag in the front seat of a car or plated with gourmet flair beside a cold pint, this burger holds its place as the centerpiece of a timeless craving.
There are days for salads and restraint. And then there are days for this. For the unmistakable hit of salt, fat, and yumminess—for the first warm bite into something familiar.
The Classic is more than a meal—it’s a moment. A taste of childhood, of road trips and late-night stops. A small tribute to the fact that sometimes, the thing you want most… really is just a burger.
"On Tap"
For purchase inquiries, please reach out to Amy Spanier at I.D.E.A. Gallery.
Email: Amyspanier@earthlink.net
Phone: (404) 308-0794
Watercolor on paper, 10mm x 22mm
Here stands one of life’s little luxuries. On Tap is a tribute to the simple pleasure of a cold beer—shared with friends, paired with a great meal, or savored slowly on a sunny afternoon. Though small in scale, this piece captures something deeply familiar: the amber glow, the fizz of tiny bubbles, the beads of condensation on glass, and the gentle foam cresting the top.
This painting was born from my love of those fleeting, flavorful moments—burgers and fries on a patio, laughter echoing in a brewery, or the warmth of a game night with family, the table scattered with cards, snacks, and conversation. It may be a simpler piece, but its warmth and vibrance hold the spirit of celebration and connection.
Email: Amyspanier@earthlink.net
Phone: (404) 308-0794
Watercolor on paper, 10mm x 22mm
Here stands one of life’s little luxuries. On Tap is a tribute to the simple pleasure of a cold beer—shared with friends, paired with a great meal, or savored slowly on a sunny afternoon. Though small in scale, this piece captures something deeply familiar: the amber glow, the fizz of tiny bubbles, the beads of condensation on glass, and the gentle foam cresting the top.
This painting was born from my love of those fleeting, flavorful moments—burgers and fries on a patio, laughter echoing in a brewery, or the warmth of a game night with family, the table scattered with cards, snacks, and conversation. It may be a simpler piece, but its warmth and vibrance hold the spirit of celebration and connection.
"Small Fry"
Watercolor on paper, 15mm x 18mm
French fries—the unsung hero of a meal. Small Fry pays tribute to this golden icon, nestled in its red-and-white sleeve, piled high with crisp edges and pillowy centers, salted just so. It’s the first thing you reach for, the last thing you regret, and often the flavor you crave most.
French fries—the unsung hero of a meal. Small Fry pays tribute to this golden icon, nestled in its red-and-white sleeve, piled high with crisp edges and pillowy centers, salted just so. It’s the first thing you reach for, the last thing you regret, and often the flavor you crave most.
"Year of the Horse"
Original Watercolor
24mm x 26mm
24mm x 26mm
"Oh How the Sunlight Dances"
Original Watercolor
24mm x 24mm each
24mm x 24mm each
"Saddle Up"
24mm in Diameter
"Melt"
Original Watercolor
24mm x 24mm
24mm x 24mm
"Stay"
Original Watercolor
24mm x 24mm
24mm x 24mm
"Gaze"
Original Watercolor
24mm x 24mm
24mm x 24mm
"Soul of the Rose Waterhouse Rendition"
Watercolor on paper, 17mm x 18mm
Painted in miniature as part of the It's the Little Things collection, this piece reimagines Waterhouse’s The Soul of the Rose not to diminish its impact, but to distill its essence. It is part of a mini-series within the collection called 'Miniaturizing the Masters'.
The original piece has always made me sigh in a way that felt like palpable stress and anxiety leaving my body. The figure leans into the rose, lost in scent, in memory, in longing. There’s a stillness here that transcends time, a hush that seems to silence the noise of the world. Recreating it on such a small scale was both an act of admiration and meditation—a practice in honoring the peace the original has always stirred in me.
This piece isn’t just about beauty—it’s about the balm of it. The way certain images, even in the briefest glance, can soften the edges of a hard day and invite a deeper breath.
Painted in miniature as part of the It's the Little Things collection, this piece reimagines Waterhouse’s The Soul of the Rose not to diminish its impact, but to distill its essence. It is part of a mini-series within the collection called 'Miniaturizing the Masters'.
The original piece has always made me sigh in a way that felt like palpable stress and anxiety leaving my body. The figure leans into the rose, lost in scent, in memory, in longing. There’s a stillness here that transcends time, a hush that seems to silence the noise of the world. Recreating it on such a small scale was both an act of admiration and meditation—a practice in honoring the peace the original has always stirred in me.
This piece isn’t just about beauty—it’s about the balm of it. The way certain images, even in the briefest glance, can soften the edges of a hard day and invite a deeper breath.
"Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring"
SOLD | I.D.E.A. Gallery
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
This miniature tribute to Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring honors a painting that has transcended time—her soft gaze, its delicate lighting, that single luminous pearl. Though just a fraction of the size, I aim for this piece to hold the same sense of intimacy that has captivated viewers for centuries.
Miniaturizing the Masters honors the artists who came before—those who shaped history with their brushstrokes. In creating these tiny renditions, I’m not simply recreating famous works—I'm reflecting on how deeply they’ve moved us. These are paintings we recognize instantly, that have lived in our collective memory, that continue to touch hearts across generations.
In this version, scaled down to the smallest detail, I hope to capture just a flicker of that same wonder—the timeless beauty that reminds us how powerful art can be, no matter its size.
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
This miniature tribute to Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring honors a painting that has transcended time—her soft gaze, its delicate lighting, that single luminous pearl. Though just a fraction of the size, I aim for this piece to hold the same sense of intimacy that has captivated viewers for centuries.
Miniaturizing the Masters honors the artists who came before—those who shaped history with their brushstrokes. In creating these tiny renditions, I’m not simply recreating famous works—I'm reflecting on how deeply they’ve moved us. These are paintings we recognize instantly, that have lived in our collective memory, that continue to touch hearts across generations.
In this version, scaled down to the smallest detail, I hope to capture just a flicker of that same wonder—the timeless beauty that reminds us how powerful art can be, no matter its size.
"Van Gogh's Self Portrait"
SOLD | The Quinlan
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
This piece was a unique challenge within the Miniaturizing the Masters mini-series. Van Gogh’s work is not subtle or smooth—it’s alive with motion, color, and emotion. To capture that essence in miniature meant resisting the instinct to blend or soften. Every brushstroke had to remain distinct, deliberate—just as he painted them.
In this tiny rendition, I worked to mirror his wild honesty, his vibrant energy, the way he poured himself into paint. It’s not just a portrait of Van Gogh, but an homage to his courage as an artist—one who never shied away from expressing feeling, even when it came out raw.
As with each piece in this series, it is a tribute—both to the enduring power of his art and to the idea that even the smallest works can carry the weight of great emotion.
Watercolor on paper, 24mm x 24mm
This piece was a unique challenge within the Miniaturizing the Masters mini-series. Van Gogh’s work is not subtle or smooth—it’s alive with motion, color, and emotion. To capture that essence in miniature meant resisting the instinct to blend or soften. Every brushstroke had to remain distinct, deliberate—just as he painted them.
In this tiny rendition, I worked to mirror his wild honesty, his vibrant energy, the way he poured himself into paint. It’s not just a portrait of Van Gogh, but an homage to his courage as an artist—one who never shied away from expressing feeling, even when it came out raw.
As with each piece in this series, it is a tribute—both to the enduring power of his art and to the idea that even the smallest works can carry the weight of great emotion.
"Marshlands II"
SOLD
Original Watercolor
24mm in Diameter
Original Watercolor
24mm in Diameter
bottom of page