A solitary child, barefoot on the blackland prairie under an East Texas sky, I gravitated to the things in the environment that would return my smile.

Mark-making, my first language, became essential to me at an early age, as it enabled the things I was not permitted to say.  

The making of language using marks is silent work, and as I was later to discover, color became its voice—tonal, visceral, and deeply entwined with sense memory, indeed, the process is alchemical. 

For me now,  narrative has evolved as a product of excavation—internal mysteries revealed beneath an intensive interrogation of a working surface. The images emerge, drawing presence from the pentimento.  Resolution is distilled by the simplification of form.