..the scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone’s perfume..
I share stories. Everything started in a midsummer afternoon when easter wind twisted into the west one and blew a butterfly. I wrote then: ‘ I would paint it on silk and wear in wind.’ So I paint moths, birds and beetles on pure silk.
Each exceptional work meets exceptional person, absorbs scents of her or his life.