Painting is very intuitive. Nothing excited me more than sitting down at a blank canvas and wondering what's going to happen.  I love the openness, and the willingness to see what's in there (pointing to my head). So as I reflect on one of my recent pieces, I can't help feel the dread, and insecurity and an aspiration to do/be better. On the flip side I feel the hope of getting lifted from the dredges.

"Treasure Lifted After the Sandfall" is an impression of a memory. Not the simple memory like, oh this happened and now there's a memory in my brain. It's like an archetype or memory in my soul.  The ongoing idea that sifting through sand, as an analogy for bits and pieces of myself, some things raise up and are precious and some things just fall away because that is in their nature.  

I started the piece with stream of consciousness writing and then layered over top of that with color and form that kind of blocked the view of the writing, so that the letters became more of a texture than something to sit down and read. Then I added the lightest colors as symbolic of the treasures that float up, or are lifted into higher consciousness.  A glowing realm.