The first time I held a paintbrush, I had just been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. My whole life up to that point, I danced, so although MS took the strength and power from my feet and legs for dancing, the paintbrush became a tool for creative expression - a new way to dance.

Watercolor's challenges were as engaging emotionally as dance had been physically - both were creative ventures involving full concentration to produce a piece of art. Watercolor repeatedly teaches me the joy of "going with the flow."

Painting is a choreography of compositional elements and design working as tools for creating movement. The brushwork dances the rhythm.

With acrylics, I feel emboldened to embrace physical gesture. The strength of acrylic color provides a bolder, fuller voice, and its brushstrokes draw in and direct the viewer's eye.

Drawn to nature's organic shapes, I am inspired by flowers, trees, and landscapes as well as the marvel of the human face and form - all organically curving lines. The circle itself inspires me to create spaces for peace and harmony in both my painting and writing.

After years of painting and study, I realized that the earliest colors that fascinated me were in the neighborhood church's stained glass windows. The reds and yellows, blues and greens awed and kept my attention for hours before my considerable myopia was corrected. I hardly ever complete a painting without those early colors I loved. Until I was eight years old, I naturally perceived my world as impressionistic. Forms did not have clear boundaries as described by crisp lines and details. I was free to see the essence of a thing through light and color.

Abstracts for me are the pure and basic and uncomplicated interplay of forms and colors and value working in a sublime and spiritual sense of space that offers views without boundaries of words and labels.