My art begins with the academic: we must first learn to see and train the hand. And my library of references has been filled with the books from the western canon, for better or worse. My current work plays around the edges of my identity as mother — struggling for my own space while caregiving for young children. What time, energy, flesh is mine and what is theirs? Where do I end and they begin? What do they make and what do I make and which is mine or theirs? I draw myself and give the sheet to my 5-year-old son, laying my ego down. There is nothing precious which is material. What will he do? He comes right to the edge of my flesh, looking up at me, alarmed when he has crossed the line. He puts me in a forest. Art works in the space between the work and the viewer. Lead too much and you condescend; not enough and the esoteric becomes repulsive. Each viewer's rich identity and history inform their experience of art and I invite the viewer to make their own playful projections and see where it leads them.