When I was going through the contents of the storage area in my basement I came upon some of my old sketchbooks; needless to say as soon as I found them I became lost in their pages. There was a time when I was always observing, when I would quietly watch and be moved to capture. I had time to engage in this, and as I went through them it was as though I had forgotten I could ever have done that.
It’s a queer thing to feel so estranged from an element of one’s life that once occupied many years. I had gone to The Banff School of Arts, I had begun a Bachelor of Fine Arts at college until being a single parent and making a living trumped any solitary artistic studies or pursuits. It just felt selfish somehow if I were to try to continue on with it seriously.
I now feel that I might just be at a juncture in my life to pick up where I left off.