If they were to say her paintings are narrative, that would not be untrue.
If they were to say that her artwork is full of color, that would not be untrue.
If they were to say that her images appear to be spontaneous, that social commentary is woven into most of her compositions, that stories are told through the interplay of objects and figures in varying degrees of abstraction, that one could break skin on the surface of her painting, that her life is in the pictures, that she is still learning to paint as she draws, that growing up around the public art of Henry Moore’s “Large Arch” and Jean Tinguely’s “Chaos” normalized her experience with abstraction, that the paintings of an era seventy plus years ago seem to be of great intrigue to her, that two of those artists are Arshile Gorky and Thomas Hart Benton, that she would be honored to be considered a witness to social justice, that somehow there are so many ideas involved in the creative process that the manifestation of art is as elusive as the miracle of life and words are mere thoughts that, if one is lucky, will create an image or provoke an emotion or provide the essence of what is completely and absolutely non verbal, and that these could serve as a preface to viewing her work, then—
I say please forgive It was a Dark and Stormy Night and walk into my world.
He says that he would have been happy leading a simple life in a garret,
seeing his fellow artists in the cafes,brooding endlessly on the mysteries of light and shadow.
— Guy Davenport
from “Bronze Leaves and Red”