NanaOctober 9, 2014

My grandmother was my first exposure to someone painting a picture. A widow, she lived by herself in Oyama. As a child I was sent there to live with her from time to time. She would set up her easel in the living room and travel back to Russia. In her paintings she saw no difference between the real and imagined. It was as if she was painting a dream state. Her attitude of not letting the truth get in the way of a good story continues to inspire me. The smell of oil paint still reminds me of her.