I wouldn’t be an artist if I hadn’t spent childhood summers at my grandparents farm, roaming the fields and avoiding the open mine shafts that dotted the woods down the steep hill from my grandparent’s mining office home.
I wouldn’t be an artist if I hadn’t marveled in the glories of the paintings in art museums and begun collecting postcards from every visit, creating a personal record of images that moved me.
I wouldn’t be an artist if I didn't long to tell stories with pictures.
I wouldn’t be an artist if I didn’t accept every illustration opportunity that came my way.
I wouldn’t be an artist if I didn’t show you my work and keep my fingers crossed that the themes that resonate with me would touch your inner wonder.
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