Not all people came to the opening, you know. I didn't expect all to come. My family came and a few friends. IT was an exciting time. Family and friends came. Trays of fruit and chocolate. The art stirring emotions some didn't want to indulge, but some really looked I think and walked really slow.

"Trains, Stains, and Hymns" the title of my first show.

I do my part, only to continue making art. This is my life. This is what I am to do. To go out and watch and wait with the rest of them, allowing my fingers to be erratic with the pen as it traces the contours of our time. To come to my home and paint, to move paintings around in such a way so that I can paint without stumbling over everything.

I feel like I want to work on my second show. But where? MY professor said I should make slides of my paintings and send them out, that this should be one of my projects. MY professors said,

"Who would have thought?" They said I was quiet in personality, but agressive, explosive, in the art.

People said it has power. Colour. People say, "Damn!" as they look through the glass.

What I always hoped would happen is happening in some way I think, and that is, the art has voice, it is there in front of every viewer begging for some response, a real response or reaction without being untrue to oneself.