The smell. The texture. The images, lines and words. The history of hands that have come before mine. All of these elements come together in a spark when I hold an old piece of paper. To paint on them. To tear them. To sand them and stain them. To marry them with each other. And finally to let them sit together with paint on a sheet of watercolor is a weird kind of perfect for me.

Doorway to Grandma's Sewing RoomFrom A Small WindowTime DancingLove and all it's connectionsSpring SynergyRaincloudHemming the DayBones of a Memory