I had an interesting mix of people around me as a child, an unconventional upbringing as the result of what is called, a broken home. One of these people was my Uncle Angelo, an artist. He was a young man with promise, talent and problems which got in his way.

My uncle seemed to live where I did when I was very young. I have vivid recollections of, in his absence, sneaking into the tiny room that was his studio. From a frighteningly dark hallway, I would push the door open to reveal the brilliant daylight of his studio. Paintings were propped on the floor against the walls…I can’t remember what they were. What I do remember is the smell of the oils and the turpentine. To this day I find myself transported to the memory of his studio when those scents are present.

More than whatever might have been resting on his easel above my head, I was interested in his brushes, his palette crusted with squirts, swirls, valleys of dark rich colors. Poking a tiny finger to it, I was never certain if the paint was dry or wet as it looked the same, and this added to the adventure of being in his studio where I was not supposed to be!

His sister Irene, who was also my godmother, took care of me and my uncle for a time. She was another strong influence in my life with music, books, the presence of her travels, and my uncle's art in her home. I look back to see them both, and even though they are no longer physically present, I look around now to see all they have imparted to me.

Art has always surrounded me in people, on walls, in stacks of books. Although I have always had interest, I 'made' little, and most of what I 'made' was during my mid-teens. An earth-rumbling-crumbling change in my life a few years ago revealed a freedom, a sense of personal discovery that was new to me. For the first time I was on my own and soon felt as if I were resuming a life that had been abandoned or perhaps interrupted. No plans, nothing structured, I began learning and doing…making art and allowing myself the pleasure of the process, being immensely surprised and satisfied at what pleasure it is!

A couple of years ago, two of my uncle’s paintings came into my possession. They did so from yet another ‘rumble’ in my new life. I confess to crying when I carried these into my home. I never thought I would see them again, and certainly never own them. For me they represent the good of what is gone and the inspiration for what is to come.

What has come thus far is: Pencil, pen/ink, watercolor, gouache, felting, felted-stuffed figures, digital photography and altered art. I am focused on the art of collage and am a member of the National Collage Society. Emerging from my passionate collecting (the foundation perhaps in my early fascination of the brushes and palette), I create button & wire whimsies/jewelry; and in the summer sun, I pound and twist worn silver-plate flatware into chimes for the wind.
Everything I do seems to benefit the other... and me as well.

"The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The next best time is today."