This June, my family and I spent two unforgettable weeks in Italy—a trip I’ve been dreaming of for years. We traveled with my parents and our girls, returning to places that have felt like a second home to me for decades.

Italy has a way of slowing you down. It invites you to notice small details, savor meals, and immerse yourself in beauty that’s both ancient and alive. These are the moments that fuel my art—and I wanted to share a few of them here with you.

Settling Into Lucca

We began our trip in Lucca, a walled city in Tuscany with just the right mix of history, charm, and accessibility.

We arrived late—after a long day of flights and train connections. I’ll never forget sprinting through the Pisa train station with kids and luggage, managing to catch the final train of the day to Lucca with just minutes to spare. Our rental apartment was tucked just inside the old city walls near the station. Even though it was after 11pm, Steven and I wandered out into the warm night in search of food. We stumbled on Mara Meo, an incredible little pizza spot, and returned with boxes of pizza and two bottles of wine—a celebratory feast to mark our arrival.

That first night felt so quintessentially Italian: unplanned, welcoming, a little chaotic, but full of laughter and good food.

Our apartment was in one of the oldest parts of the city, right next to Duomo di San Martino. The neighboring flat looked like a museum with its antique details. Even though ours was simpler, it still had that grand, historic feeling—high ceilings, massive windows, and a sense of being part of something that had stood the test of time.

One of the details that completely enchanted me about Lucca was the doors. Everywhere you looked, they were painted this deep, dark green—my favorite color. I kept pointing it out so often that Steven eventually dubbed it “Lucian green,” and by the end of the trip we were all spotting and joking about it. It felt like the whole community had agreed on this harmonious, natural aesthetic that unified the town and made every street feel cohesive and beautiful.

Exploring Lucca’s Everyday Magic

During our days in Lucca, we wandered its clean, winding streets (they’re scrubbed daily!), explored shops filled with local goods, and let the girls ride the carousel over and over in the piazza.

One of the most fun family adventures was renting a giant bike cart to circle the old walls. It’s about two miles all the way around, and with seven people aboard and only four sets of pedals, even the climb to the top ramp was an adventure. But once you’re on the walls, you see Lucca and the surrounding countryside from this elevated, tree-lined path.

We also visited the antique market—one of my earliest memories of Italy from over 20 years ago. It was just as magical as I remembered. I spent time studying old packaging, toys, cameras, dinnerware. I brought home a salt and pepper shaker, a looking glass, and little cast metal dogs for the girls. These old, storied objects felt like treasures from another world.

Favorite Lucca Spots (Artist’s Edition)

Beyond the wandering and family adventures, there were places in Lucca that always made me pause and take mental notes for the future:

• Torre Guinigi – climbing to the top for that panoramic Tuscan views.
• Pane e Vino – the pork and spinach I’ve tried to recreate back home, color and flavor so vivid.
• L’Angolo Tondo – near Piazza dell’Anfiteatro, cozy, layered meals that remind me art is built course by course.
• Piazza dell’Anfiteatro – a living testament to design that’s stood the test of time. The girls danced here with their Dad (and my Dad) on Father’s Day!
• Via Fillungo – the main shopping street, full of local shops, historic facades, and that wonderful balance of everyday bustle and old-world charm.
• The many Duomos – each one beautiful and distinct, all within such a small walled city. It felt special to have so many unique sacred spaces to wander into and admire.

Lucca isn’t just beautiful—it’s thoughtful. Even the unified color palette on the doors feels like an invitation to slow down and appreciate the art of living.

A Beach Day in Viareggio

One day we took the train to Viareggio. It’s a very different beach experience than other Italian coasts I’ve visited: wide, flat sand with neat rows of umbrellas and cabins you rent for the day.

We claimed our spot and feasted on fried seafood and the most delicious seafood salad. Viola (who’s three, so you can imagine) was scandalized that I ate octopus and let me know about it for days after. For some reason she was only upset with me about it.

It was hot, and the walk from the station was long, but there was something so satisfying about the hats, sunscreen, hot sand, and eating with our feet in the shade of an umbrella. Even there, everything felt slower, more intentional.

Cooking at Home

One of my favorite things about traveling this way is getting to cook in our Airbnb.

Years ago when traveling in Italy, someone handed me a strawberry from their garden. It didn’t look like much—but the taste was incredible. That’s Italy to me: humble on the surface, extraordinary when you really pay attention.

This time around, I made sure to spend time in the kitchen—the ingredients were so fresh and local. Just olive oil, salt, herbs, local produce, meat, and dairy tastes like a delicacy. And the coffee! Spending two weeks with my dad solidified where my own love of it came from. Between the two of us, we kept the little Italian stovetop espresso maker going strong.

A Day in Florence

We dedicated a day to Florence. Even though it was scorching hot and we battled a bit of family illness, I insisted on visiting the Uffizi Gallery to see my favorite Botticelli paintings. There’s nothing like standing in front of those works in person. The tiny details. The composition. The storytelling. I also ducked into a Florentine stationery shop—I can’t seem to visit without bringing some beautiful stationery home. And of course, we finished with what was hands-down the best gelato of the trip, eaten in the shade near the Ponte Vecchio.

Into Umbria: Spello and Beyond

After Florence, we picked up a rental van in Pisa and headed for Umbria—Italy’s green heart and my favorite region of all. We stayed in Spello, a hill town I’ve visited four times now. It feels like home. This time, our rental was at the very top of the hill, facing west, giving us the most breathtaking sunsets. In past trips, I’d walk uphill each night to watch the sun go down, but now we could just sit on our terrace and watch the landscape transform. The sunsets were long and lingering, with light until almost 9:30pm.

Spello is truly a hill town—I logged 67 flights of stairs just exploring on our first day! Every narrow street and steep climb felt like an invitation to slow down and notice the details: the stonework, the plants spilling from balconies, the changing light.

The air itself was different. Jasmine perfumed the streets, mingling with citrus and herbs drifting from open windows. Mornings felt equally special: walking into little bars and watching someone hand-press fresh orange juice, infusing even breakfast with intention and care.

Our Spello Home Away from Home

Our rental was like stepping into a rustic dream. Entering through narrow, ancient stone passageways felt like slipping back in time. Inside, it was beautifully decorated with natural materials and soft colors. But what struck us immediately were the botanical art prints in every room. My daughters noticed. My mom noticed. We all felt instantly at home.

It was proof of how art can transform a space—make you exhale, settle in, feel welcome. That experience stayed with me because it’s exactly what I try to do with my own work: create art that invites people to slow down, breathe, and feel connected to nature. When we arrived, there was a homemade fruit tort cake waiting on the table and a bottle of wine—a warm, intentional welcome.

Living Like Locals

Spello is a place you experience slowly. We shopped almost daily at the tiny grocery on Piazza della Repubblica. My dad quickly became the designated bakery runner each morning, heading to Forno Pasticceria Scarponi. He’s 50% Italian, and it didn’t take him long at all to feel at home. Watching him blend in so naturally was one of my favorite parts.

We were there to celebrate my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary—an occasion that made sharing these slow, intentional days even more meaningful. I loved watching them adapt so easily to the Italian pace of life. They even took to the local custom of unselfconscious affection—stealing little kisses in public like teenagers. It felt like the perfect place to honor their fifty years of choosing each other.

We returned to our favorite places and found some wonderful new ones:

• Osteria del Buchetto – for a delightful meal with sunset views
• La Cantina – for the best desert of your life (even my parents said so and they are in their 70s)
• Civico 57  – the best burger you’ll ever eat
• Enoteca Properzio – for a taste of Italian wines with wonderful hospitality
• Bar Giardino – for breakfast view (a magical garden that opens up to the eastern side of the hills) 
• Forno Pasticceria Scarponi – for the most delightful Italian pastries, baked fresh daily!
• Largo Mazzini – for evening drinks and making friends
• Il Grottino Pizzeria – for incredible bread and pizza
• Porcellino Divino – an Umbrian delight
• Every gelato shop in town.

Cooking in Spello felt even more connected. We’d plan dinner around what looked best at the market that day, then gather in one of our two dining areas to slowly enjoy our meal together.

The Infiorata

One of the most moving experiences was watching the town prepare for the Infiorata—a centuries-old tradition where locals create elaborate carpets of flower petals for a Sunday procession.

The entire week we were there, you could see people of all ages working side by side. Each night, different groups gathered in small squares and garages, pulling petals apart and sorting them by color. I even watched a baby, not much older than one, perched on a parent’s lap carefully pulling petals with chubby fingers. It felt like the whole town was united in quiet purpose.

The night before the procession, we were walking back up to our house when a gentleman invited us into what looked like a very humble building. “Teatro,” he said, waving us inside. Inside was an incredible little theater—at least three balconies high, curved and grand, hidden in this tiny town. They were screening videos of past Infiorata processions, entirely in Italian. I sat there, my eyes welling up with tears. It was a reminder that you never know what’s on the other side of any door. Something simple on the outside can hold another world within—a metaphor for so much of our time in Italy.

On Sunday, we watched the entire community come together, working in shifts through the night, arranging the petals into breathtaking designs, many representing peace. It wasn’t just beautiful—it was an act of patience, tradition, and shared artistry that moved me deeply.

Exploring Nearby: Assisi, Rasiglia, and Montefalco

We made a day trip to Assisi, wandering ancient streets, exploring Roman and Etruscan ruins, and visiting Agallo—a watercolor shop my high school art teacher, Patti Wall, suggested I visit. Their paints are all natural and ethically made. I chose a curated set crafted from natural materials—a meaningful, personal souvenir for my studio. And a little tip: don’t go to Assisi without some spending money. The shops there will absolutely lure you in with all their beautiful treasures.

We also visited Rasiglia, the “Little Venice of Umbria,” a tiny medieval village built around crystalline springs. It was like stepping into a fairytale. We all enjoyed wandering the streets and imagining what life would be like to wake up to the sound of rushing water daily. One of the most intriguing sights was a working loom powered by the rushing water—an old fabric-threading machine that reminded us how the village’s history is woven directly into its streams.

We also visited Montefalco for a winery tasting at my dad’s request. I was a little apprehensive about bringing our three- and six-year-old along, but they were perfectly happy. I’d packed two professional drawing pads and nice pens in my purse. Every time we sat down to eat, the girls would draw, creating beautiful little pieces. Leona even finger-knit necklaces at dinner using yarn we’d bought in Lucca. Watching them create felt so in tune with the spirit of the trip.

The winery itself was stunning—360-degree views of rolling vineyards and olive groves. The last bottle we tasted was a huge 2001 vintage, which felt extra special since that’s the year I graduated high school. And the pecorino cheese was so good we went back to buy more.

And of course there was the classic travel“adventure”: after the winery, Steven and my mom thought it was a great idea to drive our mini-bus up to see a Roman aqueduct—even though the road specifically said no trucks. It quickly narrowed, hugging a cliff. Steven had to back the entire mini bus down about ¾ of a mile—my eye was twitching for a few days! Those kinds of mishaps feel extra “fun” with your parents and kids all along for the ride.

Plein Air Painting: My Own Practice

One of my favorite memories was setting up to paint plein air in the Umbrian hills, thanks to Steven making time for it. Sitting outside with my paints, feeling the sun, watching the landscape shift as the light changed—it was a reminder that art begins with really seeing. Just being there. Being present. Another time, I was so inspired by the view at Bar Giardino that I pulled out my paints right there while we waited for lunch. The girls and I sat together creating—a sweet moment, especially now that my three-year-old is finally getting into making art herself. These studies will make their way, in one form or another, into my upcoming work. I first fell in love with plein air painting here back in 2003, thanks to my watercolor professor, Matthew Daub, who introduced me to both Lucca and Spello.

Carrying It Home

Trips like this aren’t just vacations for me. They’re refueling. They remind me why I make art at all: to notice, to savor, to celebrate beauty in daily life. But it’s not just about art—it’s about how I want to live. Italy gives me a palette of colors, scents, traditions, and slow, intentional rhythms that stay with me long after I’m home. They find their way into my sketchbooks, my paintings, and the spaces I try to create for others. They shape the way I set a table, the way I plan a meal, the way I pause to really see what’s in front of me.

If you’d like to see the work that comes from these kinds of trips—and get early access to new pieces—I’d love for you to join my studio list here.