To anyone else, it was a simple wooden paintbox. But it had belonged to my grandfather and for me its contents were precious. Using the last of his oil paints would be serious business. I chose to apply myself in a formal setting where I would learn to stretch my own canvas and master technique. I longed for an intense east-coast education and it doesn't get more East than Boston… a perfect fit.

And what if, one day, you needed less tradition and more "exotic"…what if you wanted to change the lens? There's a reason they say “out” West. Things have a way of expanding here… sunsets banging into mountains, deserts blooming for miles in every direction, and a watery horizon changing hue in 12-minute increments. I am a lucky one, blending career and creativity. My paintings have no agenda, other than staying true to a scuffed up wooden box.

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