I have become more and more fascinated by the landscape. Whether working in the small garden outside my Sunnyside home or in the backfields in the French countryside, near the run down family farm, the drama of trees, of light, of the fast pace of the seasons, keeps me off balance. It never seems to resolve itself into any one fixed image, and I run to catch up with the smell of the air, the swallows that dive-bomb across the sky, the trees that are so acutely attuned to each change in weather. This spring I saw Joan Mitchell's trees and also her watercolors and felt drawn into her dark in the middle. I felt that thrum of the dark everywhere I looked this summer, and while my work generally revels in closely held tones and colors, lately this greater dark draws me in.