Affirmation: the action or process of stating something forcibly, clearly, publicly.

With others I generally keep much of myself to myself, in part because showing my unprotected self, my intensity, my overwhelming need and persistence to understand, my passion for beauty, art, nature, and love, can lead to an uncomfortable silence.

The act of creating, of making, is an antidote to the dislocation and confusion of silence.

I look up, and there above me is the sky. If I take my time, more often than not, it is beautiful.

The sky has no intent. No politics nor plan. It fills with fragments from a far off place, with cloud, with rain, with smoke, with tiny particles of dust and living things, the weather, calm and strong.

The changing sky is beautiful, not just because of what I see, but feel, its nature, far above my own.

Beauty is not defined by being rare.

A small square watercolour of a tiny bird sits on my desk. Despite its stillness, I am struck by how this image of a wren is enough to capture its spirit, especially as I am drawn to its movement and song.

As I see a painting I am made different. The longer I gaze, the greater my difference.

I think and feel my way to a new place as the wren becomes far more than paper and pigment.

Art is not my luxury, it is the air I breathe, my food, my drink, my anchor, word, and memory.