In some ways I see my beginnings as an artist starting with an ending - the passing of my father. Of course, it wasn‘t really the beginning. There have many beginnings both big and small. Life is full of them - coloring with my first set of crayons, buying my first sketch pad, taking my first art course - all little beginnings. Many start without even a notice. It isn‘t until years later that you realize it. And so it was with my dads death. Wading through the grief and trying to make sense of the loss I stopped making art all together. I looked for meaning in books, in friends and in family, but I struggled. As I slowly emerged from the fog of grief I realized that the most potent way for me to find meaning was to be in my studio and making art. From that point on my direction has not always been clear, but my purpose has. Like life and death, beginnings and ends are tied up together and through the act of making art I look for little ways of unraveling it all.
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