I discovered the magic of paint, line and texture at three years old. A paper cluttered with black markings with a gold bumpy circle lay within reach. I grabbed my mother’s embroidery scissors that lay nearby. Pleased with my freshly cut my prize, I toddled over to my mother. She snatched scissors and paper from me. How was I to know that wonderful shape was the official emblem of my birth certificate? 

Now a grandmother, the magic of paint, line and texture still fill me with wonder. A greater wonder described by the Impressionist, Pissarro drives why I create:

Blessed are those who see beauty in humble places

I have learned in grief how true and hopeful is this statement.The beauty in grief before loss, blooms like the colorful brilliance of dying leaves in autumn. And when our treasures die, beauty yet unknown lies buried in grief after loss like seeds dormant in winter. Spring will come.

Each work I create is a new life born; a fresh story that nature tells of beauty in humble places. The discarded and broken, natural and man made, become what I choose from inspiration, tool, to substrate. In a concert of vision and material, intuition and compliance, my process re-enacts the seasons’ rhythm of birth to brokenness to transformation.