The driving force that inspires me is my desire to express myself through art. Life can be beautiful, and I want to share my impressions of it, but beauty is subjective, and it’s not the only thing worth documenting. I want to say something new, if there is something new to be said. I think the closest I can come is to say things from my perspective. No one else can do that. At the same time, I rely on, and am inspired by what has come before me. My predecessors have worked out a lot of the problems in art for me, and they have also set a precedent for doing what I’m doing and saying what I’m saying. Why do I put fish in trees? Why do I put fish on ceramic pieces? I have answers for those questions. I have to strike a balance between innovation and relatability.

I think my greatest accomplishment in art has been finding comfort and enjoyment in my own process of creating. This acceptance or embracing of myself has made me self sufficient in my creative endeavors. That doesn’t mean I am detached from the world and community around me. Inspiration comes in and expression of that goes out in my visual voice. I move the pieces around and present my version of things.

I work a full time job during the school year, but in the summertime I am free to structure my day as I like to. This means laying in bed as long as I want to, then spending a lot of time outdoors. I take my kids to rivers and lakes, hiking trails and campgrounds. We crawl though culverts, ride our bikes and sit by fires. I bring my camera and my sketchbook. I hang out with friends. I cook and eat.

The whole time, I’m noticing the color and texture of rock walls, tree branches and clouds overhead. This environment finds its way into what I produce. I tend to stay up late when I don’t have to be up for work in the morning.

Whenever I feel like it, I follow the urge to draw, paint or write. This is not something I stress over.

My art expresses my life, but in ways that might not be apparent without some explanation. The motivation may be specific to me, but hopefully we will enter into a dialogue, spoken or not. You will bring your story with you and you might see that we’re not so different. You might wonder at something I’ve done that seems familiar. Let’s pour a cup of coffee and compare notes.

My family is creative. I didn’t know this this for a long time.

In retirement, my dad did a lot of small paintings. He is a communicator. My mother wrote well, though I doubt she ever would have admitted it. My grandfather was a painter and art teacher. My aunt was thought of as the artist in the family, and my cousin is a passionate artist.

Children absorb so much information, it is no wonder our childhoods play such a role in our art.

I think we remember the first time we did things, and then those first experiences set the tone for the next time. As children, we built the foundation that shaped the rest of our life. We can change, but when we fish in our winding conscious stream, we may reel in something we thought we had forgotten. My advice is to look at it carefully. Don’t be afraid of it, even if it has spikes and thrashes around. Try to be kind to it. See what it has to tell you and let it go. Those are your spikes.