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My first love in the visual arts has always been color. When I discovered printmaking (primarily monotypes) in the late 1980s, I knew that I was home!

Although at one time I did large abstract expressionistic canvases, the colors I wished to convey always eluded me.

Time and motion seem intertwined to me, but alas, I am awed by the thought of atoms swirling and colliding, always in motion and yet seemingly static. Could this be another way of saying that color bursts upon us in seeming disarray? Or is this merely an illusion of a new dimension?