While home alone, doing what most kids do when left to their own devices, I decided to enter the forbidden zone to see what secrets I could find in my parents' room. While exploring their closet, I came across a wooden box that contained jars filled with what look liked brightly-colored goop. Rummaging a little deeper, I found a painting that bore the same colors, and it became clear what was in those jars.
 
Ever since then I have lived life on an archeological adventure, trying to find that bridge to the imagination I happened upon back then, and to bond with my mother, who despite her frequent bouts with mental illness, could use her visual gifts to express herself, and to join with her in the satisfaction of probing the mysterious, the new, the revelatory, the simple, the problematic, the ineffable, the prosaic and all things that come to life as they are discovered.

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