It came as a great surprise to me when text and script entered my artwork, verbal joining visual language, opening up a floodgate of expression. I had grown up loving to read, but terrified by the thought of committing my own thoughts to the written word. Unlike visual communication, words are so specific, so revealing. I had flatly refused to learn to type, and had rarely written in either undergraduate or graduate school. I was curious about, but never personally related, to visual art that incorporated words.
In the course of reshuffling lots of aspects of my life, career and surroundings, tidying up and neatly categorizing everything I possibly could, my artwork took the opposite turn. Many styles and subjects from distinctly separate ?bodies of work? got dumped into a wild melange of disparate elements. From the oversize, broadly-stroked, left-handed observational paintings (*I am by nature, right-handed) to the finely detailed collages on currency, and back again to automatic writing and repeated phrases (like the penitence of a classroom chalkboard) I am always speeding ahead of conscious and self-conscious thought, and following the energy of the moment.