"She flew through life like clouds vanishing with the wind on a spring

day. Without stopping to express the deeper thoughts, would they just

stay inside, a mystery to us all?"

You are invited to come let me tell you a story. The story of my mind.

I find it interesting that sometimes the brain has more it wants to say

then we have time to let it.  I express myself in images.

At first,

these images start as pictures burned in my brain like negatives of a film

roll (remember those?), I wrestle them to fit my life. I wrestle them to stay

put until I have time for them. The longer they sit the more they disrupt

my sleep invading my dreams like ants on a sticky spot on the kitchen

counter that someone forgot to wipe up.

          Eventually, I give in and let them have their day in the sun making their way from my head to my

fingers. Lately, I can't define the difference between an idea and a thought,

an emotion and a passing phase. Maybe simply letting these images speak

for themselves isn't enough anymore. When did the war start and who

won? Nobody told me.

montage copy
montage copy
press to zoom