It may not appear so, but I can in fact be a timid painter. Patience becomes a common practice, waiting to capture an instant of creative burst. At any given moment, unfinished paintings are scattered about, some eventually rediscovered, and some torn from the frame. I often come across scraps of canvas, cardboard, ripped pages from years ago, when I was only starting to gain momentum as a young artist. At the time these scraps lacked meaning or significance, but coming across them today reminds me of a spark that was full of fight. I struggled immensely to find sense of what I was doing. I am curious, stubborn, and am constantly exploring. In times of discontent, I must remind myself to remain open, and restrain from carving one path too deeply. Remember to feel. So today, on a windy day, holding down these flying pages I deepen the roots from the past and sink my toes in the soil for the future.