Charles Dickens once said “...Whoever is devoted to an art must be content to deliver himself wholly to it and to find his recompense in it.” Art has been my recompense...my constant, through the many years of being chronically ill and disabled the past few years. Even through the years prior to being sick, when my health was not an issue, art helped me make sense of the world around me. My pantings are a reflection of my life, my voice...my story. The folds in the tablecloth my great grandmother made, reminds me of her touch every time I lay one over my still life table. I pick up my favorite brush to start to painting meat and instantly, my thoughts go to my grandfather, the butcher shop he owned where my father worked as a boy, and how years later my father taught me how to pick out a tender piece of meat. The rubber chicken was my brother's from when I was little and reminds me of a time when my health was not an issue and giggles were plenty. Currently, I am working on a series of fish bowl paintings, as a result of feeling like a fish in a fishbowl, watching the world move by me. Also, I am keeping my sketchbook filled with lots of flowers.