Description
The story behind Little Ballerinas and Kittens
This painting came from a season of life that felt quietly magical—one you don’t realize is precious until you’re already inside it.
During those days at the Ballet Petite studio, nothing was staged. Nothing was asked of the children. I became invisible to them, sliding across the floor with my camera, careful not to interrupt the rhythm of their world. There was no flash, no posing—just trust, movement, and laughter unfolding naturally in low light.
The girls weren’t trying to be ballerinas yet.
They were simply playing.
That’s what gives the painting its life. Their steps weren’t perfect, their spacing wasn’t precise, and that’s exactly where the beauty lived. They moved in little bursts of joy—twirling too fast, pausing to watch one another, breaking into spontaneous games before being gently guided back by an instructor. What I captured, and later painted, was not performance—it was becoming.
Some people say the painting feels emotional, even overwhelming. That’s because it holds motion that no longer exists. Childhood passes through the body quickly. One day the studio is full of giggles and tiny slippers, and before you know it, the music changes and those same children are standing taller, more serious, more aware.
Nothing sad is happening in this painting.
Nothing is being lost yet.
But we, as adults, know what comes next—and that knowledge sneaks into the viewing. The painting becomes a reminder of how fleeting that kind of joy is: the kind that exists before self-consciousness, before comparison, before the world asks for perfection.
Each figure was painted with care because each one mattered. The long hours it took were a way of slowing time—of honoring a moment that refused to stand still. Every soft costume, every harmony of color, every overlapping gesture carries the energy of children who were fully present, unaware that they were creating something lasting.
This painting isn’t about ballet.
It’s about freedom.
It’s about the season when movement is instinct, friendship is effortless, and joy doesn’t need permission. It holds a memory I didn’t want to rush past—a chapter of life that deserved to be remembered exactly as it was.
If it feels breathtaking, it’s because it lets us step back into that room for just a moment…
before the music ends,
before the girls line up,
before play turns into memory.
That is Little Ballerinas and Kittens.
‘Little Ballerinas and Kittens’ painting was part of a series of paintings that I created during a season of my life when I was regularly photographing children during classes at the local Ballet Petite studio near me here in Maryland.
The instructors and parents were more than happy to allow me to photograph during these classes knowing that images would be used as a resource for high end gallery oil paintings. I used to slide on the floor, and photograph using high quality low light lenses, without the use of flash, being careful not to interfere, capturing candid images.
The children paid no attention to me and were completely focused on each other and the instructors. The paintings that resulted from these sessions are very popular among collectors and galleries. The children were not posed, they were constantly in movement, and the paintings captured special moments and reflect the natural moving energy of the children as they joyfully frolicked about.
The costumes are adorable, and the color harmony is gorgeous. We managed to hang on to three paintings of the series which are displayed on our website. ‘Little Ballerinas and Kittens’ took such a long time to paint, several months, because there were so many figures and there was so much going on. I’m very proud of this painting. It represents a painting season of my life that is a beautiful and special memory.
