About Sheira

My love of art began long before I understood what it meant to be an artist.

As a little girl, I would watch my mother paint, fascinated by the movement of her brushes. After she left her studio, I would often sneak in, pick up her brushes, and try to copy what I had seen. My additions didn't ever look quite like hers, but rather than seeing a little girl meddling with her paintings, she saw a budding artist. Her encouragement nurtured a love of art that has stayed with me ever since.

Years later, I studied art at Grant MacEwan in Alberta, but in many ways, that little studio was my first art school.

I grew up in Victoria on Vancouver Island and have since been blessed to call many places home, including New Zealand, Samoa, Vanuatu, Canada, and the United States, while traveling through many other parts of the world.

Living among different people and cultures has been one of the great gifts of my life. I have come to love our differences—the ways we worship, gather, celebrate, create, raise families, and see the world.

But across all those differences, I discovered something remarkably familiar.

There is a language of discipleship in Jesus Christ that seems to transcend culture, country, and denomination.

I have met people thousands of miles from one another who know Him, and somehow I recognize that language immediately. Christ has become my true home and my safe harbor, wherever in the world I may be.

That is why I paint Him.

There could never be enough words, paintings, or songs of praise to adequately express His glory. My paintings are simply my attempt to share something I have come to know deeply—something I feel in every part of me:

He knows me. And because He knows me, I know He knows you. He loves us. We are His.

We do not have to become someone else before we can come to Him. We are invited exactly as we are—wounded or whole, certain or questioning, joyful or grieving.

And yet, while His love does not require us to become something more before He receives us, He loves us too much to leave us where we are.

Quietly, patiently, He beckons us toward the life He modeled. He brings hope into our darkest nights, peace into uncertainty, purpose into our becoming, and light enough to take the next step.

For me, Jesus Christ is everything.

My hope is that when someone encounters one of my paintings, they don't simply see my interpretation of Christ. I hope they are reminded of the Christ who already knows them—the One whose hand is extended, whose love is personal, and whose invitation is always, “Come.”