When I was about seven, I had the opportunity to attend a painting class at the local art gallery. The experience allowed me to feel very grown up and like a real artist. There is still an acrylic on canvas painting from those classes, of a duck in a pond beside a tree, hanging out in a bin in the basement. Painting is a practice that has stayed with me through my life. Working with pigment and linseed oil has been my favourite medium but experimenting with materials is way too fun. There are so many ways to make paint and ink. Fugitive or longer-lasting, I am drawn to the magic of playing with coloured materials. Some of the paintings I made with ink and paint created from plants like goldenrod and pansies, have lasted for years without the colour fading. The idea of colours, and how they make me feel, is one of my favourite parts about existing.

It was also from a young age I tuned into knowledge that seemed wise. Wisdom and the art of knowing or trying to understand, is fascinating. Can we really know things? Are there too many variables to have a true robust understanding? I still have little notebooks full of phrases and bits and pieces of wisdom. Something a person said to me or I read that seemed particularly important. Worth noting. I was, and still am, addicted to notebooks. Sketchbooks too. So much possibility and potential just quietly waiting to be revealed on the pages.