"Art is nothing but the expression of our dream; the more we surrender to it the closer we get to the inner truth of things, our dream-life, the true life that scorns questions and does not see them. " Franz Marc
An artist, a painter, synesthete and seeker. Wayward meditator, photographer, fair-weather gardener, writer, grape grower, grandmother, sky-watcher and English rose lover.
My head and heart dwell both in the earth and in the sky. I am a dakini spotted with paint, buried in hues of many colors.
My mind was a magic space long before I tread this rocky road.
Always this path is a healing place if willing to turn over stones, gathering up gifts of fallen feathers and bones.
I am and am not. I do but don’t. I always will. I am a contrarian by nature.
I know no other way to be in my world nor would I change many things… Perhaps I would dabble in gray clay. Once on the beach with crones, I massaged the cold lump. I learned much and very little. So often the way.
I made a skull from the clay, with a hole I slowly carved from one side to other. A hole in the head I didn’t realize at the time. Organic, my mark-making held meanings, polished with stones. Now vanished along my wandering way. Gone back to the earth again.
Color and nature are my muse, the only power source, my deepest well. Without Mother Nature and this beautiful kaleidoscope world in which I am blessed to live, my brain would be only a small burning lump of misconnected, buzzing synapses.
“Art is nothing but the expression of our dream; the more we surrender to it the closer we get to the inner truth of things, our dream-life, the true life that scorns questions and does not see them. ”
Please protect and respect my creative rights to my work: