Each of us experiences the world in our own unique way. The degree to which we are affected by an experience is relative to the other events of our lives. Therefore, the disaster of my life may seem like no big deal to you, but many of you will understand...

     A few years ago, I felt worthless because someone I trusted broke that trust. The betrayal became an insideous monster that attacked my heart. The infidelity lead to a relational train wreck that left me scared, scarred and broken. Pieces of ME were scattered to the wind with a single, cruel word...

     It seemed like an eternity before a new word came to me. In the silence at the bottom of my grief, it was no more than a whisper. At first, I could only think it. Timidly, I spoke it, "...I... I can... I will..."

Then it became the battle cry of my soul, demanding my survival and the mantra that carried me through, up and out of darkness. I realized that, rudely, the world had gone on, in spite of my distress. The sun came up. The sun went down. Even the moon continued to travel the starry nights. 

      I had no choice but to start over. It was far from easy and didn't happen all at once - or without mistakes and re-starts...

     When I finally began making art (again,) it seemed only natural that I would use my personal transformation as a subjective wellspring. First and foremost, I chose to visually reflect upon my conclusion that being "thrown away" was not a death sentence. It had, actually, provided me with the opportunity to redefine my self, my purpose and my art. I was new, all over again!