I see that the Beauty and truth I seek has its truest likeness in Nature and the Elements.  Using my hands to bring beauty, visions, dreams, and ideas into being has always been natural to me and a part of my world.  My hands are an extension of my heart-mind.  They are instruments of transmission, communication, discovery and prayer, as is my voice.  They are vessels and vehicles of love and learning.

 I spent much time as a child on my Grandparents’ farm where I watched my Grandparents collaborating with the Earth, the animals, and the seasons’ rhythms, to create a sustenance and abundance we all shared.  I remember the deep creases in my grandpa’s hands, which were embedded permanently with rich black soil-imprinted through his devotion to helping bring things (plants and animals both) to birth. My grandma, Bessie, was the quintessential Grandmother.  She was a pioneer who came as a child to Oregon in a covered wagon.  She spent her life engaged in “women’s work” baking, canning, cooking, washing, sewing, knitting, storytelling.  She was also a schoolteacher, much loved by her students.  It was my grandma who taught me how to read, to stretch taffy, to bake biscuits, to knit.  It was my grandma who told the best stories, who always remembered the way they went.