The painting was hidden away in closets, behind closed doors. It had been a gift from my father to my mother, and it belonged out of sight. But, I’d catch a glimpse of it from time to time and I’d become immediately enchanted by her face. Through her gaze, I could feel the complexity of her spirit. There, thinly veiled by the tranquility of her expression, was grace, strength, and resolution. Her eyes were invitations, promising the secrets of life to those who dared to ask, truth rewarded only to those who held her with respect.
Her face has been in every piece of art that I’ve ever created, countless attempts to uncover her guarded mysteries, to replicate and extend her inspiration, to honor the beauty that she has given me.