One day 30 some years ago a personal event sent me into a place of pain from which I could find no escape. Ironically, sometimes when we are given our most pain, we are also given our most love. To travel through the intensity of the emotional explosions inside of me, I was desperate to find away to release some of them.

It never occurred to me to try painting until one day I found myself staring at an old easel and paint brushes at a lawn sale. The elderly man selling them said I should give it a try, and then he said something about it making me feel better. I thought it was an odd thing to say in the situation, but why not try. I was desperate and had nothing to lose.

My kitchen became my studio. My paints became my teachers. The journey had begun and I didn’t even know it. I haven’t been to art school. I’ve had no mentor. I do not have a traditional resume. I only have my life. The point of all of this is that my paintings are born of emotion and a release of that emotion into the world.