Last Day_Acrylic on unstretched canvas_ 43" x 48"
Around nine years of age, I wrote a small poem. I wrote a personal language for music. I read Greek Mythology and Nancy Drew. I imagined I was an Indian Maiden, walking barefoot through the woods, cupping my hands to drink water from a stream. I lay on the summer grass, gazing up at the clouds, seeing interesting forms and shapes, making up stories in my head. My mother loved art and took me to the Metropolitan Museum when I was nine. My father sang the songs of Nelson Eddy.
I began to seriously study art as a way to give form to my imagination. Studying at The Art Student’s League when my four children were somewhat grown. Going on, majoring in Art History and Fine Arts at Brooklyn College, earning a Masters in Art Therapy at NYU, Analytic Studies at The International Institute of Psychotherapy. All the while, doodling, painting, drawing and writing.
For the last 15 years, I have resumed my intense study of art, experimenting, pouring myself into the making of art, finding my voice.