Since the age of eleven, I've known that I would be making images of some sort on two dimensional surfaces. In the late 1960s and the 1970s I had several one person shows and participated in a number of group shows. I did not show again for over two decades except for periodic pieces in Mariposa Gallery theme shows, a piece in the first Magnifico Celebration invitational, and a piece installed in the Roundhouse as part of the Capital Arts Collection.
In August 1979,1 had an operation for cancer. The following February, I had a second occurrence and a second operation. In 1980 my husband, my sister, my brother, and I started Century magazine, a twice-a-month publication, which continued to late October 1983. I was the art editor and all my time was taken up doing covers, illustrations, ads, and cartoons, and I had almost no time for my own work.
After Century ceased publication that Autumn, I experienced a prolific period of drawing. Through the generosity of a good friend, George Pearl, I had studio space and began painting again and I have continued painting since then.
In February 1984, I had a third occurrence of the cancer. Having always worked in isolation, and being a natural introvert, I worked without feeling the need to be public with what I was producing. It seemed to be the healthiest thing for me to do, and evidently it was. There has been no fourth occurrence.
During that time, I enjoyed people seeing and buying my work, but only if they happened to be in the vicinity of where I was doing it. At this point it seems appropriate to present the work in a more public way.
The way imagination operates in me is to just show up. I am present at a canvas or a piece of paper and make what I make. It is unexpected, unpredicted, and unbrandable. I have always been like this, devoted to what turns up. It is the ultimate creative freedom. If I go against this, I render myself banal.
My work is not who I am, but what I do with who I am.