These are my roots.

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Not that my ancestors were from this area, they came west in the late 19th century to Denver looking for the glory of the west they had read about in dime-store novellas.

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These are my spiritual roots. Living in New Mexico, I was steeped

in Southwestern history since my childhood. gatherings at the dinner table  where family would tell, retell, and embellish stories about the Southwest. This constant exposure nurtured a deep feeling for the region’s majestic landscapes and indigenous cultures. As kids, we reenacted the stories we had heard, assigning noble causes to our heroic characters.  

There were magical trips in my mother's Corvair, the Mountain Goat, in search of rumored and remote historic sites. Abandoned pueblos, Spanish missions, obsidian quarries and turquoise mines were all on the list to explore. My roots in the Southwest are only three generations but the  lore and landscape have set roots within me far more pervasive than my ancestral roots. 

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As much as any language, the study of art has been all-encompassing, a guiding light and a source of solace. Art has become a conduit, a voice to talk about the world that has always been  my anchor. Understanding method, process and technique has allowed me to visually vocalize many of my loves and passions. As I stumble through words and sentences to convey an idea, I know that a visual statement can be more impactful in a positive manner.