Creative practice has been deeply beneficial in my life. As a child, I wrote and illustrated tiny books to escape chaos. My Dad drank and it’s no wonder my Mom smashed a lot of dishes. The only thing that stopped my brother David, who had ADHD, were walls and sharp objects. Cerebral Palsy confined my oldest brother Chris to a wheelchair. Mom had a full plate.
I drew, wrote and made things, like tissue box cars for my Barbie, on the living room floor beside Chris. He couldn’t crawl, but he could wriggle his way under the stereo to feel that bass. He had knowing eyes. I’d heard, “eyes are the windows to the soul”. These happy childhood moments at his side are the source of my love of portrait art.
