Obscure, unrelated memories can influence a path.

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Grandma Kadell's 1920's Dresden Plate quilt was a good reason to submit to a nap when I made childhood visits to her home in Michigan during the summer.  The golden yellow background of the quilt made those charming flower sack print scraps "pop."  Lying there, choosing my favorite patterns and colors from the bedspread with my sister Carolyn was like making a bouquet of wildflowers with a meadow from which to choose.

To be drunk with pattern and color is an excellent way to fall asleep.

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For many years as I grew older, a pristine, new box of crayons was my most treasured possession.  Long before the Crayola box of sixty-four was a staple classic, I savored the shiny flat, black box of crayons that laid the hues out in a single layered rainbow nestled in its corrugated bed. Of course I loved to draw and color with these crayons, but I actually think that it was the sorting that was an equal delight.  I would order and reorder the row, creating my favorite combinations and reinforcing my lust for color and pattern.

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Three baby chicks appeared on Easter one year, and Baby, Puff and P.J. were little characters with goofy personalities that imprinted me with a fascination of feathers and fowl long before I glimpsed exotic birds and other animals that would also inspire me.  The Chickenart series of soft sculpture that combined my love of working with colors and fabrics would be the result of this childhood memory.

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Then, turning, to papiér mâche and mixed media sculpture, I tapped into my son Rob's early fascination with all things "robot" and "alien."  There is no end to the fantastic possibilities in that; the creation of fanciful personality-saturated faux-metal robots has morphed into a series incorporating recyled objects into creatures laden with surprises.  This is endless fun....and that is why I do it.