I came to art about the same time every person does.
I remember at five years old drawing in the dirt with a stick. Mud was an easy medium for a budding sculptor.
Then the struggle of life took over. I didn't return to arts until the age of 32.
Looking for recovery from a long illness, I took a short course in oil painting.
I loved it! The long sleeping artist was awake and little did I know how art would affect me.
It was like being given a third eye to see the world from.
I could go on forever about the spirit to create, the freedom of expression, etc.
I took a few courses in life drawing and portraits, as I was drawn to the story in people's faces.
Some say the eyes are the mirrors to your soul.
I believe this to be true.
A friend gave me a few lessons with an airbrush - I was in love again.
Acrylics, water colors, house paint, anything that could be pushed through an air gun.
I was accepted into the world of young graffiti artists,
though they would tease me, saying I was older than graffiti, and our styles were so different.
They respected my work, and I theirs.
They handed me a can of Krylon and I hit the walls.
We learned from each other, shared our secrets, tricks, and emotions. It was a great time.
I learned to work big - I mean big.
(Love & Light to my young friends out there --- You know who you are).
The next thing that I fell in love with was cool wet muddy clay.
My mind going full circle, back to that little girl playing in the mud... molding it to match something in my mind.
Then came mold making and sculpting.
This kind of art is a long process, but the finished piece is worth it all.
So what's left?
Did I mention I also paint designer clothes?
So check out my clothes rack, if you want something personal...
send your threads - any piece of clothing or anything along to me.
So what's next?------ Nobody knows
So keep in touch