Tuesday, September 20, 2005
When I was a little girl I started making paper dolls. In my eight year old mind their attire was romantic and full of all the fairly tales my mother read to me before I went to sleep at night. They came alive and I could hear them breathing. The glow of those memories has followed me to this day in the strokes of oil on canvas and the forming of clay under my fingers. My goal remains the same; to hear them breathing.