As a child I took art lessons in the rear of my small town’s only hobby shop. During those lessons I was repeatedly reprimanded. At first it was for not drawing from photographs and then for using too much paint to build up textures. But the final scandal that caused my removal from class was using a canvas meant for a landscape assignment to paint my interpretation of a melting blue ice cube on a bright red plate. Abstract art was mocked in those parts in the 1960s.

Now, I seek to recapture for myself and others that original wonder of color, bolster from shape, and the restoration that comes with being immersed in another plane.