Sullivan contrasts the measured symmetry, and recently, deconstructed layers of her computer-assisted designs with painterly, atmospheric layers of paint. She reveals in color, undulating form, and alluring textures. She celebrates the paint and tangible aspects of color. Her flowers are beautiful, but they are monsters, contemporary, biomorphic Frankensteins. They are designed to seduce the viewer and lure them in, just like our dependency on fossil fuels, phones, tablets, and computers do. They are intended to be like snares. Just like the climate crisis, they do not look dangerous because they are beautiful.

That's part of the problem Sullivan believes, that we cannot see climate change. The landscape is still beautiful, her yard is lush and dripping with Spanish moss, just like her work at home, the campus of Spring Hill College. The view out of her window at work is like a postcard. Everything looks beautiful, just like it always has, but it's different now, it's scary.

We only pay attention when the house is on fire. She obsessively paints her monster flowers and hope, hope for change, hope for solutions. Hope for everyone's children. Her paintings are her primordial silent scream.