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One morning in 1997 I woke up knowing that I finally had to paint. I had avoided it for years, and having grown up with a mother who was painter ― I knew what could happen!

But painting had its way and off we went, first to the familiar roadside vendors on Arizona’s highway 89, and then east to the pueblos of northern New Mexico. Exhibits and shows followed quickly, and twenty-four years later painting is still that which my world revolves around.

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