From my earliest memories I have been fascinsted by and a witness to beauty in the world around me. When I was quite young it was the smells, textures, shapes and colors, of the knarled, acorn-laden oak trees lurking outside my bedroom window on a breezy fall evening or beckoning me to go exploring in the woods on a sunny warm Spring day. That was when the new flowers displayed their brightest greens and most riotous colors everywhere you looked around our home in the western Sierra foothills of California.
At eight I had already been drawing, coloring, painting, sewing and building with anything I could find whether outside or in my Dad’s workshop, which held many treasures [some forbidden]. My mother said I was scribbling with crayons before I could walk and just never stopped. For Christmas one year she gave me a paint-by-number kit and was disappointed that I wasn’t interested in staying within the lines; go figure.
A few years later I discovered more stimulations in our visits to San Francisco, new and miraculous smells, textures, shapes and colors were everywhere. I discovered that there was much to marvel at in the infinite variety of man’s imaginitive constructs.
I’m still scribbling, drawing, painting, sewing, building and generally making a mess wherever I go and with whatever I find interesting.
I guess somethings never change…