In my first year of school, I sat next to a girl with beautiful, smooth olive skin, and I can clearly remember her looking at my hands and asking me, "Why have you got old hands?"
So, for years after that, I cursed my parents and ancestors for a lineage of pale Irish and Scottish skin, and for giving me these tiny hands that were, apparently, born with about sixty years of weather under their belt.
Anyway, I'm at an easy peace with the tools of my trade now, I even kind of like them, even though they haven't gotten any prettier over the years. The Wild Minds piece is a nod to the aspects of our lives we can see in our hands, or the things that our hands may influence -- as a vehicle of creativity, healing, love, mischief, or the search for knowledge.
Prints of my favourite recent work are available here.
I love this. Someone told me that once. Until then I had never even thought about it. Silly how one person saying something like that can change something inside you. Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.
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